


The Truth, Part 7

by Seasider



Series: The Truth [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Developing Friendships, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Memories only, PTSD, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: Luke remains with the Alliance, but Vader is a constant presence in his life.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Friends
Series: The Truth [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775602
Comments: 33
Kudos: 77





	1. Luke’s Terrible, Awful, Not-So-Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has bad memories and tries to put them aside for awhile. And he has a birthday surprise from Leia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: not quite deserving of a Dead Dove warning. Next chapter.  
> FFN 61

“What did you do?” Chief Nikran demanded, aiming his blaster at Luke.

“Not _him!”_ Leia snapped. “The other two!”

Nikran was visibly disappointed that Luke wasn’t the culprit, but gestured to his security team to take the others into custody. “Looks like we need medics before we try to move this one,” one of the team said.

“I think his back might be broken,” Luke offered helpfully. _Too bad, so sad._ Was this how Vader felt when he killed— smug? Or did he have no feelings about it? _Just doing my job…_

“Princess! Are you all right?” Boss arrived, assessing the scene, evidently taking his new job in Command very seriously. He glared at Luke. “What did you do?”

“I—“

“He didn’t do anything except save me!” Leia exclaimed.

Oh. Luke gave a modest shrug and felt compelled to add: “You did a pretty good job of saving yourself.”

She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Still… you were like a guardian angel.”

His answering smile faded.

_...beautiful… a little angel…._

“Is anyone else here with you?” Boss asked her.

“What am I, invisible?” he muttered under his breath.

_… no one cares… these kids are invisible...._

“I’ll deal with you later, Oz. Why aren’t you on duty?”

“Deal with? You’re not my boss anymore, remember… _Boss?”_

Commander Dreis ignored his indignant reply. “You’re injured, Princess. There’s blood on your mouth and jacket collar.”

_...sweet little mouth..._

She licked off the blood. “Just bit my lip, nothing serious, Commander.”

“How many were there?”

“Four,” Luke responded without thinking. “Stormtroopers.”

_… white… polished… boots...._

“What? There are no stormtroopers here.”

“Oh...right.” Luke sighed and folded his arms. “I just… hate stormtroopers. They all have the same faces.”

_...sand streaking white helmets..._

“We’ll search for the others,” Nikran said. “Are there really two more or is he so high he’s hallucinating?”

“I’m not high,” he muttered resentfully.

“Two more, Chief,” Leia said sharply. “Please be respectful. Oz helped me.”

Huh, he’d deteriorated from ‘saving’ to ‘helping’. Whatever.

_...somebody help me..._

“Let’s take you back,” Boss said. “You need to get out of those clothes and—“

_… get these clothes off…._

He turned around, staring at the pond where he’d killed the creature. Hadn’t he felt remorse a few minutes ago? He reached for the emotion, but couldn’t locate it. Maybe it had been an illusion.

_No Force No Force No Force_

“Oz will walk me back.”

_...don’t let him get away…_

He dug his fingers into his arms. His _walls…._ What was happening to his _walls?_ If his walls shattered, would Palpatine know it?

He patched them. Glued them. Taped them. Whatever it took to keep the barriers up.

“Are you smoking spice?” Boss demanded. “I can smell it.”

The unfairness was like a slap across his face. “No! I _promised!_ It was them!”

_...damn is he dead… throw him in the trash…_

Was it Vader’s fault? His shields were cracking and Palpatine was hovering—

“Oz?”

Her hand was on his arm, tentative. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Boss and Nikran led the way, which was probably just as well. Luke was feeling disoriented and knew he needed a few minutes to gather his fortitude and rebuild that damn wall that was close to collapsing. Or maybe it was already down and gone. Maybe that was for the best. Remember, then forget. It seemed like Yoda had said something like that. Remember, examine, and put away… no. _Undone, the past cannot be. Stay in the present._

“You want to sit for awhile?” he asked her quietly as they approached the base. “Maybe you should rest.” Although it was _his_ knees that were shaky.

Leia studied him carefully then nodded. “Commander,” she raised her voice, “I’ll be along shortly. I’d like to talk to Oz.”

Boss appeared unhappy. He hesitated as if he wanted to add something, but kept his mouth shut for a change.

They sat on a bench near Gold barracks. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” She met his gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier. I know you’re not a spy. That was rude of me.”

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, and her mouth twitched.

“I saw you run away. What happened after I left?”

... _can’t run away…_

“Oh… they showed more video, ugly battle scenes from the ground. I… I’d never seen that. Lots of blood and screaming… civilians… kids….”

_...screaming..._

“I know it’s what happens.” She nodded. “But I haven’t seen that sort of thing either. I think they protect me from the worst of it. Why did they show it to you?”

 _Well, probably because my dad was the star of the show._ He shrugged and changed the subject. “What would you do if you were running the galaxy?”

“What?” She gave a small, surprised laugh. “Well… first I’d reinstate the senate.”

“That would take a long time.” He told himself he was just making conversation. Still, it seemed like there were important ideas that he should investigate. “There’d have to be candidates and elections. It could take a year or two.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “While that process was going on, there would have to be a governing council of people, maybe former senators and planetary officials, who could be counted on to fairly represent and maintain the new government.”

“Huh. Who would pick them?”

“A coalition.”

“What coalition? Who’s in it?”

She looked slightly irritated. “It would be composed of freedom fighters who would protect the new government from coups planned by Imperials who would be determined to retake control.”

Her words sounded rehearsed. “You mean there would be no Imperials represented in your government? That seems one-sided.” _Alliance versus Empire… Jedi versus Sith… it starts all over._

She gazed into the distance. “Yes, I guess it does. I suppose… I mean, there are honorable people within the Imperium, it’s just a matter of identifying them.”

He was willing to bet that Darth Vader wasn’t on her short list. “Maybe one person should be in control until the senate is set up again.”

She tsk’d at him. “That’s what Palpatine said. Then once he got into office, he began to gradually eliminate people in important posts and replace them with his lackeys. No, having one unscrupulous person at the head would mean a slow-moving coup that would pave the path to a dictatorship.”

“Oh.” Yeah, he figured his dad had that in mind. It sounded more sensible than a vague council selected by an even vaguer coalition. “It’s my birthday today, too,” he said impulsively. “I didn’t tell anyone. Until you, I mean.”

“Really?” She seemed nonplussed. “It…that’s… well, happy birthday. How old are you?”

“I’m… not sure.” He flicked a glance at her. “I didn’t know my parents. I was fostered as a baby.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was adopted.” Leia clasped her hands in her lap. “I don’t know who my birth father was, but I know my birth mother's name.”

Luke froze. Oh, krit. He didn’t want to hear this… but somehow he really _did_. To have someone to share with—

No, no, no. He couldn’t tell her about Darth Vader.

“My mother— my adoptive mother— told me once. Her name was Padme. I don’t know her last name.”

His body sagged with relief. _She doesn’t know._ “Pretty name.” _And I’m not going to tell her. Not yet. Maybe never._

“It is. I wish I knew more.” She sighed and stood. “I’d better go before Command gets paranoid. I don’t want to get you in trouble if you’re supposed to be on duty.”

“Yeah.” He stood. “Nice talking to you.” _Whatever you do, don’t get a genetic test._

“You, too, Oz. You’re not as—“ Leia faltered. “Well… you’re not whatever I thought you were.”

He grinned. “You’re not as snooty as I thought you were either.”

“Oh! I take it back! You _are_ what I thought!” But she laughed and waved as she walked away, and he watched curiously.

_Sister…._

Huh. How did anyone not know the names of their parents? A 30-second blood test was all it took.

She could be lying to him, but he didn’t think so. After all, it had taken him most of his life before he was tested.

With a heavy sigh, he headed back to the barracks to change into work clothes. With any luck, he’d be so busy he wouldn’t have time to think about whatever he was thinking about Mos Eisley that he didn’t want to think about.

 **OooOoo**

By the time he’d changed, it was lunch break. He’d thought he wouldn’t have an appetite after what he’d seen and done, but suddenly he was starving. He loaded his tray and made his way to the pilots’ table, sliding in next to Zev.

Hobbie leaned across the table. “We heard the parade was bad,” he said in a low voice. “Especially the flyover.”

“It was impressive,” Luke agreed, then corrected: “Scary. I can’t imagine how big the whole fleet is because there were hundreds of ships at the parade. They must have thousands… maybe millions. I don’t know how we could ever defeat them.”

“Always upbeat, that’s our baby,” Janson mumbled.

Luke shrugged. “I’m being realistic.”

“How about being _hopeful?”_ Wedge suggested, and Luke didn’t have an answer.

Right, hope... _. When is it hopeless? When is it time to give up on someone you love?_

“Scoot over.” Commander Narra waited until he moved, then sat.

“Sir,” Luke, Hobbie and Zev said in unison. Porkins and Janson chuckled.

“Gentlemen. What’s the topic of conversation?”

“The flyover. Oz said it was awesome,” Hobbie chewed around his words.

“I did _not_ say ‘awesome’, I said it was impressive and scary!”

“Oh, that’s right. I guess I thought ‘awesome’ in my head.”

“Because you were thinking about me.” Janson smiled nicely. “Awesome, I am so remarkably _awesome.”_

“Sorry about that,” Narra said under his breath while the others chatted. “I didn’t know they would show footage with....”

Luke nodded. “Thanks for staying with me.” He could feel the commander studying him.

“Are you all right?”

_...hey kid… you okay…._

He shrugged. “Other than being super pissed off? Sure.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he was angrier at Dodonna than at his father. How warped was that? He shook his head. _Remember who’s the villain, idiot!_

But who was the villain and who was just lost?

Whom should he hate and whom should he help?

Zev leaned around him. “Why wouldn’t he be all right? What’s going on, sir?”

“Fifteen minutes and you’re back on duty,” Narra deflected.

“We know.” But his outspoken buddy Zev wouldn’t let it go. “It seems like whenever Oz is involved, there’s always an ‘and’ or a ‘but’ or a ‘move along, nothing to see here‘.”

... _nothing to see here… move along..._

“We’ve all noticed, Commander,” Wedge added in quiet support, like he usually did.

“Finish your lunches,” Narr said evenly. “This is neither the time nor the place for speculations about colleagues.”

“Apparently there _is_ no right time or place,” Hobbie muttered resentfully, and they returned to silently focusing on their meals.

“Sorry,” Luke whispered, but no one heard him.

_...so sorry don’t hurt me..._

Narra didn’t look at him. It would have to be the right time or place soon, or he would lose Red Squad’s friendship and… respect, if he even had that now. He could _feel_ their far-flung thoughts and tensions coalescing. He had to start flight training, leave mechanics behind. Which reminded him… “Commander, is Tadeo okay? He didn’t know what his brother was doing.”

“He’s been questioned but Command considered what you said. He’ll probably be sent home.”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so, too,” Zev said. “He’s a good kid and a hard worker. Stuck around, didn’t run off or freak out or whatever the hell you did this morning when you disappeared. I needed help and you were nowhere.”

Luke stared at his plate. _Freak out?_

_...don’t freak out… is he dead…._

“Stand down, Senesca,” Janson said, surprisingly harsh. There was an awkward silence.

_...doesn’t matter… no one wants these kids…._

Luke broke it. “Back off, Zev. We all have limitations,” he surprised himself with quiet reasonableness. “I do the best I can with what I have to handle right now. I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you want. I will someday. Just... not today.” He stood and glanced at Narra. “I’m going back to work.”

_...just trash him..._

“Come to my office first,” the commander said, also standing, and Luke frowned.

“In trouble again!” Hobbie sang.

**OooOoo**

“Remain standing,” Narra said when Luke pulled out a chair.

 _Fine._ He adopted his best soldier-boy posture, hands clasped behind his waist.

The officer picked up a stylus and tapped it on the desk. Luke decided that Narra had switched his nervous habit from sighing to tapping. Maybe he wouldn’t point it out… yet.

“Explain what happened this morning.”

“When exactly? It’s been a busy morning.” After Narra sent him a Look, he relented and decided to answer as relatively honest as possible. “I was upset and went for a run… and some men had Princess Leia and….”

If Narra’s expression was anything to go by, the modified version was falling apart quickly. “What were you doing with four men and several bags of spice?”

He flushed. “Not what you’re thinking! _Whatever_ you’re thinking…. There was _one_ man smoking, he offered me a hit, I said no— because I _promised_ my dad I wouldn’t— and then two others came and one was in back of me and it’s No-Force Day so I wasn't ready when—“

“Wait.” The tapping stopped as Narra held up his hand. “What is No-Force Day?”

“Well….” It actually sounded a little silly when he thought about explaining it. “Because it’s Empire Day, my dad said Palpatine would try to… agitate me so I would react and he could find me, so my dad said I shouldn’t use the Force. That’s really hard not to do,” he added, possibly whining a little.

“I see… I think. Continue.”

He looked down at his hands, which had somehow moved and now were in front of him, the fingers twisting together. “And he grabbed me from behind and they wanted to— for— _me…_ and the broadcast was— I was _upset_ — and remembered a long time ago and I thought I’d forgotten but I remembered and I wanted to kill them because he touched me— But I didn’t.”

“Stop.” Narra’s head tilted. “What does the broadcast have to do with any of this? I know it was upsetting but—“

“Because it made me _remember!”_ Now his disobedient hands were crossed and hugging his arms and he forced them down, fists clenching the sides of his trousers. “And I didn’t _want_ to remember, I wasn’t _supposed_ to remember, but it’s No-Force Day and I was only eleven and I couldn’t stop them and I can’t hold up all the walls by myself that are supposed to keep things… inside.”

“Sit down.” Narra hesitated before asking quietly: “Are you trying to say that you were assaulted when you were a child? Or… raped?”

Oh. Well. Shit. His dad had said that Narra was intuitive. He should’ve remembered. Luke sat down suddenly and studied the edge of the desk. It was rough wood. Maybe splintered. Broken. Raped. What a small word. “I… guess.” A small, simple word, hardly long enough to be a real word, nothing fancy, just a few letters that changed him more than he had ever realized. Did it mean the drugs, the drinking… was _that_ when it started? He’d thought it was because of learning about his father.... 

He’d blamed Vader and Kenobi and Beru and Owen… and himself. But the troopers, he’d never thought about the troopers. He just didn’t remember them. Couldn’t remember them.

Maybe because they all had the same faceless faces.

 _They even threw dead people out with the garbage… Only once, I only saw that happen once_.

Oh.

_I guess that was me._

“I… mostly forgot… and I thought everything was because of Vader...being his s—“

 _“What?”_ Narra bolted to his feet. “Are you saying _Vader—_ your own _father?”_

“What?” Luke was confused for a few seconds before— “Gods, _no!_ How could you _think_ that? It was stormtroopers… troopers.” His voice trailed off for a moment. “I was too small to fight four of them. I tried.. but I couldn’t.”

The commander sat again. “Of course you couldn’t.” He cursed something unfamiliar under his breath, and Luke had no idea what language it was.

“But I’m not too small now,” he clarified fiercely. “I can _fight!_ And then they had Leia and they wanted to hurt her too and I wanted to _kill_ them. I _should have!”_

 _I still want to._ He wondered where they were and if he could get to them.

“But you didn’t.” The nervous tapping began again. “The one you threw over a log has a fractured spine and is paralyzed, the other has internal injuries but will recover, while the remaining two—“

“They ran away. Cowards!” he scoffed.

“Judging from what happened to the first two, that was a smart move on their part.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ll never see any of them again. During their interrogations, we obtained good information on where the drugs are coming from and who the dealers are. They managed to implicate themselves also.”

“Good,” Luke said because it was expected, not because he cared. “So _I_ caught them.”

The other man hesitated. “I guess you did at that,” he admitted.

Well, well. Something heroic had come out of his mess. He leaned forward. “Sir, please don’t tell Command about... you know. I hated that Boss told them every little thing.”

Narra didn’t comment on his accusation. “I intend to resolve issues within the confines of the squad whenever possible. I won’t repeat personal confidences, you have my word.” He stared at the stylus and put it down carefully.

“Back away from the stylus,” Luke blurted.

Narra smiled briefly before turning serious again. “Do you want to see the base counselor?”

“No.” The idea of talking to anyone else was horrifying. Besides, he might accidently say something about his father. Speaking of…. “But I’m going to need to go see my father. Soon.”

“To tell him what happened to you?”

“Are you kidding! Oh, hells, no!” What a completely revolting, appalling idea. “I don’t know what he’d do. You know, he kinda has an anger management problem.”

The officer made an odd choking sound. A blank sheet of flimsi suddenly became very important. He fiddled and folded it in half before pushing it to one side. “Oz… Luke… why would you want to see him? _Why?_ ”

There were a lot of questions implied in that single word, and Luke didn’t think he could answer all of them. _Because he’s my father_ — he’d said that before and it didn’t matter to anyone but him. 

_Because he loves me as much as he’s able._

What a kriffin’ lousy excuse for an answer that would be. He needed to say something that didn’t involve poking at his emotions, which were pretty damn fragile right now.

“Because I need to know what’s going on. What his plans are… what Palpatine is doing… or if he’s hurt him. I need to know my place in the plan and if it’s time to implement it or if I have to learn more—“

“What plan?” Narra asked sharply.

Luke considered. Command wanted additional information and maybe that was okay. “We’re going to overthrow the Emperor,” he said simply. “You know that, I told Command. But I don’t know when or how or who we may need to recruit to help.” Oh-oh. Was he confessing that his dad wanted to rule the galaxy? He switched tactics. “We also need to talk about how we can ally with the Alliance.”

Great. Now he’d just allied _himself_ with the Empire. _Think before talk, please._ So he added, not knowing if it was true but it sounded neutral, “And we need to figure out how the Third Side will be involved.”

Narra’s eyes flickered in memory of Jovay’s description of the majority of the galaxy’s inhabitants. Sure, Luke’s impulsive description as the “Third Side” hadn’t been official… but why not? Seemed like a logical name.

“So we have to discuss all that, and I need to see him in person. This isn’t an in-head chat.”

“A what?”

He held back a grin. It was almost wicked, the way he liked to shock Command. Except Narra wasn’t Command any longer… sort of. “We talk in our heads all the time, except on No-Force Day. But it’s not the same as in-person talking. And,” he added innocently, “I need him to show me how to do that lightsaber twirly thing. That was… awesome.”

The commander stared at him for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I was certain when you’re being serious and when you’re being deliberately provocative. If you’re done baiting me, get back to work and finish up your shift.”

“Yes, sir!” Luke stood and managed a snappy salute. But he paused before leaving. “Thanks for… listening. It means a lot to me.”

“Any time,” Narra said, and immediately looked like he regretted his offer.

Luke smiled, genuinely this time, and left the office.

 **OooOoo**

He finished his shift, thankfully with no further interruptions. But he didn’t feel like dinner or facing the squad right now. He wasn’t angry with anyone; he understood Zev’s frustrations about constantly being faced with inconsistencies and confronted by questions without answers. But the complications were troubling and he had so many thoughts roiling in his head. Maybe a little aggressive practice would help calm him.

Opening the door to the sparring room, he hesitated and didn’t flip on the overhead lights. A flicker glowed across the room and as his eyes adjusted he could see Kodra cross-legged on the floor in front of a single candle. He began to back out, but the Zabrak gestured.

“Sit.”

He nodded and approached. Sliding one leg behind him, he lowered himself with a grace he knew he hadn’t possessed before Kodra’s intensive training. Bending his head, he watched the other from under the shadows of his eyelashes. The Zabrak’s eyes reflected purple in the dim light. He wondered if he should say something.

“Inside the flame, find peace and healing. Inside the flame are questions.”

This sounded like Yoda’s meditation instructions. Luke’s lips parted. “How do I—“

“Inside your head is the flame.”

Oh. So the candle was just for focusing, it wasn’t some other-worldly symbol of—

“The flame.”

He stared at it without blinking until his eyes teared, then he closed them but could still see the persistence of the flame painted against his lids… in the void. He saw Vader in the overwhelming darkness that was his father…then a spark... did that mean he was the candle? The light to Vader’s night? The love to balance Vader’s hatred?

_...love can set the galaxy alight…._

But what did that mean, how would it end? In chaos or resolution?

_...redeemer… leading a lost soul back to his path or_

_...to his destruction_

_...more questions than answers_

“Yes.”

Luke opened his eyes. The candle had burned down, and he could barely see Kodra behind the wisp of smoke that floated toward the ceiling.

“Questions are more important than answers.”

He took a deep breath. “Why?”

“When one decides on an answer, one is finished. But questions are infinite.”

Luke nodded. He crossed his legs at the ankles and rose in an easy movement. “Thank you.”

Great. More cryptic stuff to figure out.

Okay, he needed to think what this meant. Stop deciding on answers and ask more questions? Deciding his father was evil or couldn’t love or only wanted him as an asset— those were dead ends. He needed to _ask._ What did his father need? What was he missing? Where had he lost it? What did he need deep down, buried where even Vader couldn’t— or _wouldn’t—_ see it. What would _make_ him finally see it?

_I don’t care what anyone says, I will never give up on you._

But too easily forgotten and equally important: _What do_ _I_ _need from him?_

He opened the door to the barracks and stopped dead.

“ _There_ you are!”

“Where have you _been?”_

“We’ve been waiting and waiting!”

His five pilots all leaped up and stood in front of the table like they were hiding something. The commander came out of his office, a half-smile on his face.

“What? What’d I do now?”

Wedge made a one-two-three gesture and they shouted, “Happy birthday!”

“We swore not to sing,” Hobbie offered. “Although I will if you want me to.”

“No— no, that’s okay.” He blinked a few times as they stepped aside to reveal a… half a cake. A strangely decorated cake that was covered with smushed trees and snakes and smeared by what looked suspiciously like finger marks. “How did you know?”

“Your girlfriend sent it— Princess Leia,” Porkins explained. “And we _really_ wanted to eat some, but Zev made us wait for you.”

“I remembered you said you wanted cake for your next birthday,” Zev said, arms folded. “If we’d known ahead of time, Pork would’ve baked it, but….”

His face felt hot and he blinked back tears. This was his first birthday cake since— well, in a very long time. “Thanks. Where’s the rest of it?”

“Night shift had it for breakfast,” Wedge grumbled. “They were afraid we wouldn’t leave them any.”

“They were right. So, Oz, are you legal now?” Janson asked eagerly.

“What?”

“Twenty-one? Not jailbait?”

There was a chorus of groans. “Krit, Wes, he’s a _baby!”_ Hobbie exclaimed. “He still drinks bottles of _milk,_ not bottles of something else.”

Luke laughed, so relieved that they weren’t annoyed with him any more. “Seventeen.”

“Same as the princess! You’re _twins!”_ Janson crowed.

“Oh, no— don’t tell her, _please_ don’t tell her we’re the same age! I couldn’t stand it!”

“I suppose we could keep it a secret,” Wedge offered. “That is… if you quit talking and cut the cake. Oh— and a present came for you.”

“From Darth Vader,” Janson said slyly, and Luke saw Narra wince.

“Really?” He couldn’t believe his father _remembered_ when he was so busy and he’d actually _sent_ something! “Where? What is it?” He was so _sure_ his dad had forgotten because the day was almost over—

“Here!” Hobbie shoved an envelope at him. “What does it say?”

He snatched it eagerly. It was addressed to… _My Biggest Fanboy._ “Oh….” For a second, he’d thought— His cheeks were burning.

“You should see your face!” They were laughing, and Narra shook his head. 

Luke grinned and opened the envelope. The flimsi was blank. “Look!” he exclaimed. “Secret invisible writing! I’ll just use the Force and… oh… wow.”

“There’s nothing….” Janson paused. “Does it… it doesn’t…?”

Luke cleared his throat. “Here goes… ‘Dear Oz, I have heard you are my main fan. I would like to meet you. Please join me for dinner on a date of your choice. Best, Darth V. XOXOXO’. Well, isn’t that nice of him?”

For a split second, Janson hesitated while everyone laughed at him. “Oh, cut the damn cake!”

They gathered around to watch and Narra clapped his shoulder. For such a lousy, scary, terrible, awful day— it sure had turned out well.

But why leave well enough alone? He cut a few slices, then paused. “Look, Zev… about this morning… I was just… thinking about things I didn’t want to think about and it threw me off and I had to get away. I’m sorry.”

Zev shrugged. “Okay. Now let us eat cake!”

“Isn’t that a famous quote from Mon Mothma?” Hobbie asked. “Let us eat cake! You know she’s my daddy.”

“If you give me a piece of cake,” the Commander said, “I’ll go in my office and shut the door. I don’t think I should be listening to this conversation.”

Luke gave him a slice with a gooey green snake coiled on the top. “Nothing personal,” he said with a wink.

“If Mon is your daddy, then who’s your mommy?” Janson wondered.

“Dodonna,” Luke suggested around a forkful of frosting.

“Oh, good one. They’re a match made in hell. Oz, who’s your daddy?”

“Darth Vader,” he said promptly as he grabbed a carton of milk to counter the sickly sweetness.

“No, that’s who I was going to say!” Janson pouted. “Not fair!”

“We can be brothers,” Luke offered.

“Well… okay, then Princess Leia can be our sister.”

“I’m not gonna be part of _your_ family! Because I definitely don’t have brotherly vibes for her.” Hobbie made a smacking noise with his lips. “Yum! Love those buns!”

“Have some respect!” Luke snapped. “Honestly, how rude!”

“Right,” Porkins interjected. “Because if she’s Oz’s twin and Vader is his daddy, then Leia is—“

“Stop stop stop!” Luke nearly shrieked. “That’s awful! Stop it!” Krit, his heart was pounding so fast— Was this the Force at work? Did regular people feel it too, but they didn’t know what they were feeling and saying? “Ugh. Just stop. Have a beer.”

He knew that would distract them. They raided the fridge. “Want half my milk?” he asked Wedge, who simply grimaced.

The office door opened. "Oz," Narra called. "Tomorrow, 1400 hours, suit up, you're flying."

"What?!" he shouted with excitement and was immediately overwhelmed by calls of congratulations.

All things considered, this hadn't been the worst day of his life.


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke reveals his painful vulnerability to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This is the Dead Dove chapter. Read the tags. If you would prefer to skip this chapter, you can and it won’t greatly affect the story.  
> Angst, trauma, memories of assault, if you’ve read this far you know what’s going on. Nothing explicit! Very short. Don’t make me read it again.  
> And I promise things will get better for Luke now that he has at least one secret he doesn’t have to hide.  
> FFN 62

He wasn’t really paying attention to the Sith tape, so he turned it off and left the earbuds in so he could think without being interrupted. But it was impossible to center his thoughts. His gaze wandered around the room. Night shift had left to head to breakfast and duty— with a few ‘thanks for the cake’ exclamations. Hobbie and Janson had gone off somewhere, probably up to nothing innocent as usual, while Wedge and Zev were lounging and reading on their datapads. Porkins had some sort of tiny flute and was struggling to make what he clearly believed was music. Occasionally Narra looked up when a harsh squeak came from the instrument, but said nothing as he continued to read from a small stack of flimsi sheets.

It felt like more family than he had ever had, and he smiled inside, wishing this newfound happiness would balance his raw grief.

The door banged open. “I captured an enemy hiding in the latrine!” Hobbie announced, shoving before him an underwear-clad Janson, who was wearing binders on his wrists, a toilet seat around his neck, and a _—white shiny polished—_ stormtrooper helmet on his head.

Luke glanced away _. Memories… like a word you’ve never thought of… but once you think it, suddenly it’s everywhere you look._

“Get that out of here!” The commander was on his feet, heading for the two pranksters, a wave of fury rushing before him so visible that Hobbie stepped back involuntarily. No one spoke but the disruption in the atmosphere was jarring, and everyone’s sudden tension was unnerving.

“Sir, I— we—“

“Get out! Put that piece of trash back in the garbage where it belongs.”

Luke flinched.

_... dump him in the…_

He fiddled with the earbuds and took them out, trembling just a little. Narra moved behind the sofa and put one hand on his shoulder, barely squeezing. It was meant to be comforting, but Luke jerked free and scrunched up his legs, hugging them tightly to his chest.

_Damn shields. Crumbling, crashing walls. Falling apart under the weight of carrying them._

Hobbie returned first, casting a defensive look at the officer. “Sorry,” he mumbled with a hint of resentment. “It was just a joke.”

Janson entered behind him, hastily fastening his jumpsuit and looking sulky as he glanced between Hobbie and the commander. “Uh….”

“Just… sit down and do something productive,” Narra said, and they crossed to flop on the other sofa, looking disgruntled and unhappy.

Damn. He could feel Narra’s uncertainty about what to say. It was his first time to exercise discipline, but no one had done anything wrong. Zev was looking at Luke, clearly noting Narra’s protective stance. His gaze returned to his datapad when Luke looked back at him. _He’s fed up. He doesn’t want to hear another lie. And I don’t really want to tell another one. I don’t want to tell them about…. But they’re my friends and I don’t want to lose even one… not one._

Luke cleared his throat and struggled to use his voice. “Look…” he said, but no one did. Behind him, Narra tensed. He started again.

“When I was eleven—“ His voice shook and he stopped to inhale. Now they were listening and looking. He rested his chin on his knees and rubbed his thumbs across the toes of his boots. “When I was eleven, I was raped by four stormtroopers. They never even took off their helmets.” Now that he thought about it, he wished they had. At least that way he might’ve had options. And he could have _seen_ their faces.

Pork’s flute had cut off in a wailing mid-note. One of the pilots swore quietly, but he couldn’t look up to see who it was because his boots were scuffed and he was concentrating on rubbing away the marks. “I don’t remember much, just… pain and being scared... and they were hitting me over and over… and afterwards they... threw me in the garbage. They thought I was dead…. I guess I thought that, too.”

_...finish him off..._

The wet drops on his face worked really well for cleaning his boots. Why was everyone quiet? They should say something. “I don’t know how long I was there… people threw stuff on top of me… but I was so _cold._ Freezing. I remember the base hospital and Uncle Owen said….”

He had to stop to take a breath, to _tell_ himself to breathe because he couldn’t do it without concentrating. “He said it was _lucky—_ “ Now he was breathing too much too fast, and he fought to control it and sent out the words in a rush before he ran out of air. “It was lucky they were stormtroopers because otherwise the Imperials would’ve taken our farm to pay the medical bills.”

Someone shuddered, and it wasn’t him. Well, it _was_ him _,_ but there was someone else too. He turned his face to the side, aware that he was getting his knees soaked, but at least his boots were clean. “And then I forgot. Except sometimes… there were always troopers around and they all looked the same and I’d wonder… is that one of them?.... They could see me but I couldn’t see them. Then I’d forget for longer and longer. And finally I forgot all of it for a long time... until today. They were all there on the holo… and then some guys….” His pent-up breath was released as a sob. “Today was a really bad day.”

He wiped his face on his sleeve, wondering where that heavy black cloak was when he needed it.

He felt a gentle touch on top of his head and this time it was okay. He looked across the room at Zev, whose face was frozen. “I know I lie. Over and over. But my life was so… so _ruined_ even before I was born that I don’t know how not to…. It’s like… self-preservation, you know?”

He clutched himself together in a tight ball, wishing… wishing for what, he didn’t know. That he hadn’t spoken, that he hadn’t come to the Alliance and made friends, that he’d never been born? That he didn’t have the Force, that his parents had been ordinary, that his life had been mundane? That he was someone else entirely? That he didn’t have to keep up these lies every minute of every day?

But…. “My name is Luke,” he whispered into the heavy silence, and Narra stroked his hair.


	3. Breaking the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke looks inside and realizes a few things about himself. Has a talk with his father and then happy time - he finally gets to fly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, no deceased bird.
> 
> FFN 63

He turned in early, lying in bed awake and unmoving, listening to the murmurs of the pilots in the central room. They were undoubtedly talking about him, shocked and saddened. Feeling sorry for him. Wanting to find ways and words to comfort him. Wanting to protect him.

His tough, cynical side, the one that kept him alive in Mos Eisley, the one that kept him high and drunk and defensive and angry— that side whispered that he could get away with anything now. They would always excuse him, take his side, make allowances for his behavior, because he was a victim. A boy, helpless, needing them. _A pretty little thing._ And it would be easy, even natural for him to play that role. He ran through scenarios in his mind: outrageous things he could say and do, the drugs he could take and they would cover for him and scold him but let him carry on. There were so many opportunities open now. Still… been there, done that. Maybe there was other stuff he’d rather do. _Better_ stuff.

And there was _one more thing._ Would they tell others? Would there be gossip? When word got around, would people think he was available, up for anything that anyone wanted to do or say? Would his pilots protect him? He trusted them, yet… how well did he really know them? At night, when it was quiet, he knew that all of them weren’t alone in their beds. Some were more than friends. Lonely, yearning, lusting…. Really, sometimes it was quite distracting. So would they think that he would welcome...? Just because he was seventeen now and had never kissed or been kissed and the only girl he knew was his maybe-sister and there were sure a lot of guys around and that just made his thoughts more complicated because he really didn’t feel interest in anyone.

For the first time in the year that he’d been here, he got out of bed and locked his door. Then he turned on the small bed-light and tugged the blanket back over him.

He shouldn’t have told them. Lying wasn’t so bad. It was safer and maybe wiser. Smart, like he still couldn’t tell them about his father. But those were two very different lies. One was something that had happened to him and the other one didn't happen, it _was_ him. He couldn’t stop thinking the same things over and over. He shouldn’t have told them but he had, and and now there was a sense of release that he hadn’t realized he could feel. One big lie down, one to go. At least he _hoped_ there was only one big lie left, but what more might he have hidden that wall?

But which wall? There was more than one. He probed gently like he would a shattered tooth. Something big tempered his complete connection to the Force. Yoda had hinted at it, and Luke had assumed it meant that his father’s presence obstructed his full access. Which, after he thought about it, didn’t make sense because he’d only known his father for less than two years.

Kenobi then. His Force signature was vague but familiar, he’d felt it lingering for years. But Kenobi was dead, killed in a Tusken raid when Luke was only nine, protecting a child who’d died anyway, Owen had said—

All his breath left him in a moan, and he clapped his hand over his mouth hoping no one had heard. _Protecting a child—_

But… he knew. He wasn’t _nine_ when it happened. He was eleven and he was naked and filthy and nearly dead and—

The wall splintered into pieces.

_—and Ben Kenobi lifted Luke out of the garbage and wrapped him in his robe and—_

There should be no more tears left inside him. He pulled the pillow over his face and sobbed, his entire body shaking. The pilots were asleep, he didn’t want them to hear, didn’t want anyone to come in and offer comfort of any kind.

All these years he’d hated and blamed him. Was Ben Kenobi still alive? Luke tried to reach out but his Force was so broken, so blocked. He drew in several long breaths. _Calm yourself_ , his father’s voice said though it was but an echo from an earlier time.

He stopped crying, turning it off like a faucet, suddenly hardened and determined to find the truth. But there was the Wall, the big one, the one he had never really noticed because it had always been there. It wasn’t Kenobi’s wall— that one crumbled when he remembered Ben saving him. There wasn’t anyone else who could have built such a solid structure except…

Himself. His five-year-old self trying to protect his life and his sanity. Determined to save himself and his family from the Evil that was looking for them.

Eyes closed, he reached out one hand and could almost physically touch its smooth, impenetrable surface. He was there, behind it, isolated, safe from everyone. No one could reach him, no one could punch down his Wall.

He pressed with one finger, and in his head he felt something give. Luke hesitated, unsure if he should continue. If his Wall came down, who would he be? Someone else entirely? Maybe someone who was content with who he was. Someone who wasn’t dependent on Son of Vader to provide his identity. Maybe he’d be someone he _liked_ … or someone he didn’t.

Or at worse, he’d be exactly the same.

What the hell. He pushed. And stood there surrounded by rubble, wondering what he would be when he came out the other side.

 **OooOoo**

“Sorry,” he mumbled as Kodra’s stick caught him in the ribs, his third strike of the morning. “I guess my heart’s just not in it today.”

“Your _heart_ does not need to be.” The Zabrak took his own and Luke’s staffs and returned them to the rack. “When you practice as you should, your muscles will remember. You will not need your heart or your brain.” With a wave, he dismissed the three remaining hard-core students. “All of you— go now and practice.”

The long purple hair whipped around as Kodra turned back to him. Luke decided the color was real and remembered his own dyed hair with some longing. 

“No classes for you tomorrow. Think, _question. You_ are not attentive today.”

“I know. I couldn’t sleep last night. Maybe I’ll get some tonight.” He grabbed the towel Kodra threw at him and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

“No. You must _wake up._ ”

“If I can’t _sleep,_ how am I supposed to wake up?” Frustrated, he dropped onto a bench and began to pull on his boots.

Kodra folded his arms, looking every inch a martial artist. “Where is your Force?”

“Nowhere. I don’t know. I don’t want to use it. It’s too much.” Plus, he hadn’t heard from his father and wasn’t sure if it was safe. Maybe he had gone too far last night and Palpatine had felt him. Maybe that’s why what he’d seen had spooked him and he’d retreated so fast. On the other side of the Wall had been a Void so vast and cloudy, so far beyond his comprehension that he'd been afraid to take another step. He needed time. He needed a _teacher_.

“Are you a… Sith… or… something?”

“Merely a Sensitive.”

“Oh,” Luke said, disappointed, standing and forcing his heels the rest of the way into his beautiful, very tight boots. He liked his new calf muscles, but damn, the boots were getting uncomfortable. Maybe he’d ask for a new pair from.... “Like me.”

His instructor snorted. “Nothing like you. You are something unique… possibly. If you work hard.”

“Great.” He bit his lip and glanced up. “Did my father send you here?”

“Who is your father?” Kodra shrugged. “No one sends me. Where I am needed is where I am.”

Luke rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do you happen to know a green troll named Yoda? ‘Cause it sure sounds like you do.”

There was a low trill of laughter. “You are flying later?”

“Yes!” A spark of happiness flared to life inside him. “This afternoon. It’s the first time since— Well, for awhile.” Flying was freedom. Space was where he belonged, unfettered, able to be his best self with or without the Force.

Kodra nodded. “Stay here. You are off duty until then.” He raised his hand at the beginning of a protest. “I spoke to Commander Narra. You must have private time to meditate and ask your questions.” He walked to the door and snapped off the lights, leaving Luke in darkness. “Talk to him.”

He figured the ‘him’ wasn’t Narra. Luke sighed. Shouldn’t have put on the damn boots. He struggled to yank them off, then went to sit on the mat. There was no candle, but he supposed he didn’t need it. Tentatively he cracked open the very edge of his Force sense and tugged.

Minutes passed and he’d almost given up when he heard: _Son._

 _Father,_ he answered without emotion— except for the shiver he experienced whenever Vader said that word. He counted to ten before he couldn't bear the silence any longer. _Are you okay? Did he hurt you?_

He felt a ripple of amusement from the Dark Lord. _I believe he’s a bit worried_. Which didn’t answer either of his questions, so he didn’t respond.

This time his counting got to thirteen before Vader broke it. _I am unharmed. I sense agitation in you._

 _Do you?_ Krit, this was uncomfortable. And unnatural. His head was full of a million questions. _Impressive air show yesterday._

_Yes._

Luke sighed. _Why did the troopers salute you the way they did?_

_Should they have behaved in a disrespectful manner?_

Great. _I don’t want to talk to you if you’re going to be like this._

_Very well. We should meet in person._

Yeah, he wanted that too, but— _I’m not ready. I didn’t like what I saw yesterday. With your lightsaber— all those people— I hated that._

_You know who and what I am. Did you expect something different?_

Yes. _Maybe_. _I don’t know. I need to think more. I’m not ready to see you._ Because there’s so much to ask. I need help but I can’t ask you.

Can I?

 _Very well._ There was a marked hesitation, then: _Did you like what I sent?_

 _What?_ Briefly he wondered if someone was imitating his father because that didn’t sound like Darth Vader. In fact, it sounded almost like a plea. _What did you send?_

_A package. The smuggler was supposed to deliver it yesterday. If he didn’t, I will rip his heart out._

Ah, a threat— that was more like it. Luke smiled. _I haven’t seen it yet. What is it?_

_What you asked for. And… for your birthday._

He really needed a recording of this. No one would believe that Vader could be so hesitant. Luke couldn’t believe it himself. _Thank you. I’ll… I’ll check at Command to see if they have it. I… well…. I’m glad your Empire Day went okay. And… never mind._ He’d almost praised Vader’s skill with the lightsaber. What was _wrong_ with him.

Another odd pause. _Let me know when you want to talk. You know where I live._

He couldn’t help it— he laughed and let his delight race across their bond as it was severed. How was he supposed to stay angry at his dad? He _was_ angry, but it seemed like his anger was difficult to hold close. It kept sliding out of his grip.

Because his love was greater than his anger.

Why didn’t Yoda understand that? No one did. _You can’t save him… an animal you’re protecting… lose your soul, you will…._

Questions. He had to ask questions.

The first one would be: _What question should I ask?_

The second one would be: _Who can I ask?_

And suddenly: _Did I say I hated the_ _lightsaber and_ _not_ _him_ _?_

Sithspit _._ He couldn’t even get the questions right. How would he ever find any answers?

 **OooOoo**

Enough brooding. His anxieties could be put off until later because this was what he’d wanted for so long. He was an ordinary pilot about to take an ordinary flight, and in his estimation that reality was extraordinary. He was literally bouncing with excitement like the child he should have been.

“Hold still!” Zev said to Luke’s feet as he tried to stuff the too-long orange flight suit into his work boots.

“I can’t! I’m going to fly!”

“Are you six years old?” Zev demanded, but laughed. “Yes, and you’re flying with _me_ , so settle down. This is serious business.”

“No, it isn’t! You’re just gonna watch, right? You’re letting _me_ do the flying, right?” He was so _ready!_ He wanted off the planet and into the sky, into the atmo, into _space_ when there was no one to fight, nothing to remember, there were just stars and—

“We’ll see. Maybe once we’re clear of dangerous moving objects. Like planets. Okay, you’re done.” Zev studied him critically. “Where’s your helmet?”

“Over there, but why do I need it? We’re taking a shuttle.”

“In case of emergency. Always have your helmet with you. You’ll need it if life support systems fail.”

Well, okay, that seemed reasonable enough to agree with. “Where are we going? Can you tell me now or is it still a secret?”

“We’re rendezvousing with a supply transport.”

“A smuggler?” he asked eagerly. “Maybe it’s my birthday present! I’m supposed to be getting a present!”

“Do you have an off button?” Zev grinned.

“Oh, like you’re the first person to ask me that!” Luke scoffed. “I can be quiet if I have to be, but—”

“Good to know,” said Commander Narra as he approached, accompanied by Janson. “Ready for your first mission?”

“First? But what about—”

“Your first mission where you can display discipline as one of your skills.”

“I‘m ready! I can, I can!” He felt like he was going to explode.

“Oh, there!” Janson exclaimed. “It’s Happy Smile!”

The others laughed, but Luke didn’t. “What do you mean?”

They exchanged looks. “Well…. that’s what we say when it happens. You don’t do it very often.”

“Do what?” He stared at the three of them, all grins themselves. “I smile a lot!”

“Yeah,” Zev said, hands on his hips. “But you don’t usually mean it. When you do… we call it Happy Smile because—”

“Because your eyes get shiny,” Janson said, fiddling with Luke’s collar unnecessarily. “Are you strapped up properly? Do you remember how to—”

“I remember!” He’d _remember_ to look in a mirror and smile because he had no idea what they meant. If it turned out to be a special expression, he’d be sure to aim it at his dad when they met in person. Or maybe he could send a holo of the smile. Maybe his dad would melt and take off his helmet and look at him the way these three were doing. “Are we ready or are we going to stand around talking all afternoon?”

Narra laughed. “Fly away, little bird. Senesca, good luck.” He and Janson left, and Luke followed Zev into the Lambda.

“I’ve been in one of these,” he remarked.

“Uh-huh. Strap into the copilot seat. Let’s run through the controls.”

“I know them already,” he protested but obediently pointed out and identified each one in turn.

“Have you flown one?”

“No, just as a passenger. But I’ve flown an x-wing and a snub— well, sort of— and a TIE—” Oops. “Ti...tiled...titled ‘pretty space girl’, that was the name of it.”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Zev shot him a look. “Well, my little Imp friend, do you want to take us out of here or would you rather keep on talking and digging that hole deeper?”

“Take us out! And I’m not an Imp!” He flipped on the com and asked for clearance. “Here we go!”

 **OooOoo**

It was an uneventful trip— but an education, Luke decided after they returned to the base. The transferring of supplies was boring— who knew they had an inventory and had to check everything and open everything and count everything— and if those guys were smugglers, they weren’t as interesting as Han and Chewie. Very businesslike. Boring.

But the flying was wonderful. He didn’t have to use the Force because he was so good without it. Zev let him fly until they had to dock with the supply ship, then he took over. But Luke flew them away again without problems. Actually, the only problem was that the Lambda wasn’t really built for wild swooping and spins.

“How did he do?” Narra asked when they’d disembarked and stood there, Luke clutching the inventory pad as he went over it with the ground crew _again._ Like they thought something got lost during the flight?

“Good. Hadn’t flown a Lambda before but knew all the controls. Kept it steady and balanced. Mostly.”

Luke smiled as the crew left and patted one hand on the hull. It was hot and….

_Oh._

His Force exploded.

The ship was moving. Not outside, but inside, in every molecule that bonded itself with others to become atoms, every ion that buzzed against his flesh, the composition of the metal… perfection. He closed his eyes and reached deeper—

“Oz. _Oz!”_

He opened his eyes. Narra caught his breath and laughed a little.

“Happy Smile.” Zev grinned, and this time Luke knew what he meant because he could feel it burst inside him like fireworks.

“Congratulations on your first successful flight,” the commander said and then spoiled his Force epiphany by adding: “Command wants to debrief you about yesterday’s incident.”

His illuminating discovery was deflated into a stomach-clenching moment of anxiety. “No.”

“Sorry,” Narra said and sounded like he really was. “I’ll be there with you.”

“Unless I’m mistaken,” Zev commented, “and I rarely am, it seems like Command always has it out for Oz… or Luke….. Which…?”

He shrugged. “Either. I just wanted you to know my name.” _But not my full name or my father’s name or my maybe-sister’s name._

“It’s a standard debriefing when people are injured,” Narra said. “You need a break first?”

“No, I peed in my suit,” Luke said with a straight face.

Automatically they both looked down.

“Kidding!”

Zev shook his head. “Good thing, because I really would’ve been pissed if you had.”

Luke giggled. “Yeah, maybe I’d better take a ‘break’ first in case Command pisses me off.“

“Stop!” Narra commanded. “Go and— and come back.” He struggled to maintain a serious expression, then looked at Zev and shook his head. “Teenagers.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he heard Zev say as he hurried toward the ‘fresher.

 **OooOoo**

Boss sighed. Luke wondered if it wasn’t just Narra’s nerves but actually the command desk that caused sighing. Maybe it was possessed by a depressed spirit. He smiled slightly, relaxing because it was just Garven Dreis, not the generals. He refocused on what the commander was saying.

“—and he said that you quote ‘led them on’ unquote and indicating a willingness to join in whatever activities they had in mind.”

Luke giggled. _Activities._

“Just tell me what happened in your own words.”

“Who else’s words would I use?” he asked mischievously. “Oh, okay. I was there, a guy was there, he offered me a hit, I said no, because really that wasn’t worth my time, then another guy brought glitt and asked for credits and I said no and he wanted gorgeous me as payment instead and another grabbed me from behind and another guy had Princess Leia and—”

“That sounds like more than four ‘guys’,” Boss interrupted.

“I don’t think so.” It was hard to keep track of his words. “No, there were only four.” _Same as the troopers._ “Anyway, I took care of them.”

“Yes, you did.” Boss sighed yet again, and Luke wondered if they should just burn the haunted desk. “They’re considering pressing assault charges.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Let me talk to them. I’ll change their minds.”

“Not a chance.” Dreis scrolled on his datapad. “I don’t want to have to explain prisoners’ deaths or dismemberments to the generals. And they won’t be allowed to file charges, they’re on their way to a prison colony. Your report is just a formality.”

“That’s me, Mr. Formality.” He grinned until Boss punched his datapad again and aroused his suspicion. “Are you recording this?”

“I was. It’s off now.”

Luke made a disgruntled sound. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve talked better.” Oh well, they could still think he was Oz, that was fine. “Hey, did a package come for me? I was supposed to get something yesterday.”

Standing next to him, Narra sighed and Luke peeked at him. The Desk Demon was getting to him, too.

“As a matter of fact, yes. We were rather busy yesterday, as you may recall, and I haven't had time to go through the contents.” He shrugged. “Commander Narra, may I trust that you will supervise the opening and ascertain there are no thermal detonators or explosive devices hidden inside?”

“I would be happy to do that,” Narra said solemnly, and Luke’s grin widened.

“Then you’re both free to leave. Two boxes in the corner.” Boss jerked his head to the side. “I hope to not see you in here again, Oz.”

“Then keep your eyes closed,” Luke sang, sending what he hoped was Happy Smile to his former Red Leader as Narra stacked the boxes in his arms. “I’ll drop these off and go right back to work.”

But he could hardly wait to see what his dad had sent.


	4. A Busy Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke shows off his birthday gifts, then talks with Vader about the merciless lightsaber executions. He should be angry... but that’s his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Fialleril for “ipa”. :)
> 
> FF 64

“—and then she said, ‘Not on _your_ head, flyboy’!”

Luke scuffed his feet in the dirt, not quite understanding Hobbie’s joke but pretending to laugh along with the others. With all this talking, the walk back from the mess hall was taking way too long when what he wanted to do was get back to the barracks and open the gifts from his father.

“Good one!” Porkins crowed. “That reminds me of the time that I—“

“Hey, kid!”

Someone grabbed his shoulder. Without thinking, Luke spun around and twisted the man’s arm behind his back until he was bent over so far that he nearly lost his balance.

“Sithspit, stop!” It was Lurden, a Green Squad pilot. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry, automatic reflex.” _Muscle memory._ He smiled; Kodra would be pleased. However, both Green and Red members halted, some of them looking like they’d been eager for a fight for quite awhile.

“Very funny.” The pilot huffed, pulling away and rubbing his arm. “I just wanted to say ‘good job’ with those guys yesterday… and wondered how you took on four of them.”

“Now you know.” Zev sent the Green group a challenging look.

Luke took the opportunity to further his new reputation. “I would’ve killed them if the princess hadn’t been there.”

“No kidding. I hear they were really banged up.” Lurden’s expression was half admiration and half wariness. “Anyway… good work, we don’t need their kind here.”

Luke nodded, wondering how much gossip had distorted the incident and hoped by ‘their kind’ the man meant spice dealers. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“And off we go,” Janson said cheerfully, “back to our separate testosterone-filled little homes. Right, guys?” For all his apparent silliness, Wes could look threatening when he wanted to— and right now he was giving Green Squad a big smile that went nowhere near his eyes.

A few Greens scowled but the rest laughed and held up their hands in pacifying gestures, walking away. “That went well,” Wedge commented.

“Red is Number One!” Hobbie chanted as they headed back, a few others joining his chorus, and Zev clapped Luke on the back.

 **OooOoo**

“Look,” he began when they were finally settled in the rec area and he was cross-legged on the floor with his precious packages. “About what I said last night….” He had to make this clear but didn’t know how to say it. “Don’t get mad, but….”

“What?” Zev asked sharply, and Luke knew a couple of them immediately considered that he might have made up the whole story. Which would have been preferable if he had. Being attacked by stormtroopers worked better as a fantasy than as a reality.

“I don’t want you to think that—” Oh, seven hells, how could he put this delicately? 

“What?”

He drew in a long breath. “Just because I’m not a—” Oh, no, he was not going to say _virgin_ like a girl. “Just because…. Okay, I don’t want you guys to think that just because of that….”

“Spit it out.”

He looked down, feeling his entire face and throat burning. “It doesn’t mean I’m… _available_ or that I want you to… you know.”

There was a chorus of disgusted aarghs and ewws. “That’s what you _think_ of us?” Porkins nearly squeaked. “That’s so gross!”

Luke felt slightly offended. “It’s not _gross!_ It’s just… well, it’s not that you’re not all really _cute_ and _adorable_ in your own special ways, but—“

“Oh, stop!” Hobbie interrupted. “Nobody’s going to jump you!”

“Well….” Janson murmured, and Hobbie hit him on the head with his datapad. “Ow! Okay, okay.”

“Luke,” Narra said seriously. “You’re safe here. You need to understand that.”

“We’re family,” Zev added.

“Okay.” He still wasn’t quite comfortable. “But don’t tell anybody. Not even the night shift guys.”

“We won’t. We talked last night and promised we wouldn’t say anything.”

“Quit worrying,” Janson said. “Besides, will you open the damn packages? I’m so excited I‘m hyperventilating. Will it be more clothes?”

Zev looked Janson up and down. “They won’t fit you.”

“I know! But I can touch them and dream.” Janson leaned forward in his chair and watched Luke open the first box. “So who are they from this time? Your friend, your relative, someone you did a favor for— or Darth Vader?”

Luke blushed even more and made an aggravated click with his tongue. “They’re from my _dad!_ I asked him for lighter weight clothes.”

“Krit. I thought they’d be from Vader. Next you’re going to confess that the whole story about your Corellia shopping spree was with money from your father, not the Dark Lord.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I may have fibbed a little.” _Or not. Same difference._ He opened the biggest box. “Yeah, it’s what I expected, boring clothes. Oh—and wrap boots! I love wrap boots!” They would fit so much better. He inspected the clothes. There were only two sets of shirts, jackets and pants, one beige and one black. And the boots were beige. “I thought there’d be more.”

Wedge laughed. “You’re so spoiled!”

“Really,” Janson agreed. “Look at the _quality_. I would give a month’s salary for a jacket like this.”

“You get paid?” Commander Narra asked from his seat at the table. “I’ll have to look into that.”

“Very funny.” Janson refocused on Luke. “Your dad must be really rich.”

“Uh, I guess….” Where _did_ Vader get his money? Did a Sith Lord get a salary? Did Palpatine give him an allowance? It couldn’t be ‘spoils of war’ because that would be theft and his dad didn’t steal. Maybe he was just good with investments. Or real estate.

“Maybe he’s a spice baron.”

“Not hardly!” Luke exclaimed, horrified. “He’d never do that!”

“What about an arms merchant,” Porkins suggested. “That would explain why Command is either mad at Oz or trying to get on his good side.”

Hmm. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that his dad was involved in weapons trade. He _was_ unofficially involved with the military, so….

“I still like the son-of-a-Moff idea,” Hobbie offered.

“He’s never going to tell us,” Zev observed.

“Where does he live? What’s his house like?”

“I don’t know!” Luke snapped. So much for his dad saying ‘you know where I live’. _Well, no, I don’t know!_ Did he have a mansion somewhere? A castle? A sky-high apartment in Imperial City?

Porkins snorted. “You’re like the king’s motherless bastard lovechild that he tucks away and sends gifts to assuage his guilt over the queen falling to her death off the balcony when everyone saw he was standing right there but denies that he pushed her.”

“Assuage?” Hobbie asked doubtfully. “And you didn’t make that up. I remember that storyline from a holodrama.”

“Porkins!” Wedge intervened. “That’s rude.”

“But it might be true.”

“You watch holodramas?” Zev’s brows raised.

“Whatever, but my parents were married,” Luke said blandly and reached for the second box. The first thing he pulled out was a tin of… cookies. Bite-size Imperial cog logo cookies. He laughed and handed them off. “I think they’re meant to be shared.”

“Imperial cookies?! Who knew there was such a thing?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—“ Narra began, but stopped when Porkins ate one.

“Mmm...delicious,” he said around a mouthful.

“Imperial?” Wedge wondered as he took one and passed the tin.

“Please,” Hobbie drawled. “We’ve already figured out _that_ much. Of course his dad is an Imp. But I want to know… military?”

“No.” Luke sighed. _Not exactly._

“Political?”

He shook his head, unable to come up with any words to explain exactly what his dad was because there was only _one_ of him. There were three more wrapped pieces in the box. Luke wondered if his dad had wrapped them himself— what a ridiculous idea! But he smiled anyway and opened the flat one. It was a purple t-shirt— to match his lightsaber?— and when he unfolded it he saw tiny sparkling crystals scattered like stars over the front while in the center, embroidered in silver, it said—

Luke laughed at the memory and held it up against his chest.

“What does it… ‘Deep Space Sprite’?” Janson exclaimed. “Oh, put it on!”

Obligingly, he pulled it over his shirt, wondering what questions were raised in the Devastator’s tailoring division when they got the order to make these clothes. Unless his dad went to the mall, a thought that made him grin wider.

“It suits you.” Zev winked. “What else have you got there?”

“Now who’s excited?” Janson murmured, kicking his foot toward Senesca.

“A training remote!” Luke exclaimed, holding up the droid globe. “I can practice with my lightsaber.”

“Oh.” Janson looked as disinterested as the others. “What else?”

There was a small box and… an envelope. Gingerly he touched his fingers to the lettering that said _‘Luke’_. Was this his father’s handwriting? He decided to save it for later and pried open the box. It was a narrow silver-colored… durasteel?... bracelet? It was too small to slide over his hand and appeared to have no hinge. He ran his fingers around it, but felt nothing. It had lettering inside so tiny that he had no hope of reading it.

“That’s weird,” Wedge says. “What’re you supposed to do with it?”

He closed his eyes and let the Force flow through his fingers until they found a nearly imperceptible change in the metal. He pressed there and it opened, then he curled it around his left wrist and closed it.

“Are you going to be able to get it off again?” Hobbie asked.

Luke shrugged. It fit snugly and was heavier than it should be given its slim width, but it felt somehow right. He held out both his arms, testing and turning them and realized— “Ah. It balances my prosthetic.” This balancing was something he would have to get used to, because he was so practiced at compensating for his heavier metal hand. He looked at the others. “That’s all there is, sorry! You’ll have to be satisfied with the cookies.”

When they had gone back to reading and their multiplayer fighter game, he took the envelope and studied the script. His dad _must_ have written it! Though he had no idea what was inside, his heart raced with excitement. Imagine his dad taking the time to write something to him…! He slid the heavy parchment out and immediately saw a question mark. His dad sent him a question! He _needed_ questions, how did Vader know? He smoothed it out and read:

_When you look back at your life,_ _what will you see?_

Oh. He placed his hand on top of the writing in case there were Force emanations… but no. It was just a question, a short, relatively simple question.

But the implications were staggering. _If I look back today, I know what I’ll see… a lot of things I don’t like, but lately… things I do. And in a year, forty years, however many years I have… what will I look back and see?_

Trust a Sith to unsettle him completely.

“What does it say?” Narra moved to the sofa behind him. Wordlessly, Luke handed him the paper. “May I read it aloud?” he asked after a moment.

“What does it say?” Zev repeated, and they paused their game.

“When you look back at your life,” Narra recited, “what will you see?”

There was a moment of silence broken by Janson. “Ouch.” Luke looked at him. “That’s heavy.”

“I’m not ready to look back,” Wedge muttered.

“Depends on if you like what you see,” Zev offered and sent Luke a look that he probably thought was neutral.

“Yeah,” he agreed, but remembered something from Yoda. “You can’t change the past, but you can look to the present and the future and be aware of your choices.”

“Our own philosophizing deep space sprite,” Hobbie said, lightening the suddenly serious mood. “You’ll do okay, kid.”

In truth, he had absolutely no idea what the future held and what choices would be his to make. He gathered up the gifts to retreat to his room, ready to talk to his father. “I’m going to com my dad to say thanks.” Was a partial lie as bad as a whole one?... Nah.

“You can’t com an Imperial,” Zev observed mildly.

“I didn’t say he was an Imperial, you did!”

“Luke,” Narra interrupted. “All of you— 0900 tomorrow we’ll have drill practice. X-wings.”

“Me too?” Luke asked eagerly.

“Yes, Red Five too. So, everyone— get a good night’s sleep. It’s going to be intense.”

 **OooOoo**

_Thanks for the clothes and gifts. The guys liked the cookies, and I’m wearing the sprite shirt._ He let his happiness shine. _I can’t believe you remembered that._

There was a pause. _My memory is excellent._

_Oh. Okay. And thanks for the bracelet. It balances my hands._

_That is its intended purpose._

_Okay... that was thoughtful anyway, thanks._

_You have said that._

Luke sighed. _You know, you sound kinda mean sometimes._

_I am a Sith Lord._

_Well, use your Sith-Lordiness on other people, not on me!_

He hadn’t expected a response and didn’t get one. _And about that question… I don’t know._

_It does not require an answer. It is for contemplation._

_I KNOW that!_ This was too awkward. _Look, can we meditate together? I mean, meet in our heads._

 _Later,_ his father said and abruptly severed contact.

Heaving a martyred sigh, Luke dragged himself back to the central room and settled down to listen to the chatter. No one in the entire galaxy had such an unreasonable father.

Maybe he should practice Happy Smile and mellow Darth Vader with it.

 **OooOoo**

“We’re on the Devastator?! I can’t believe it!”

“I thought you would enjoy seeing the bridge.”

“Yeah! And they _really_ can’t see us?” This was seriously amazing. They were sitting on the edge of the walkway over the pit, watching officers and enlisted men at consoles. Multiple viewports showed an oddly motionless starfield.

“We’re not really here, you know that.”

“I know, but… this is creepy. It’s like spying on people.”

“They are just manifestations, Luke, not real people.” A smile was under the mask, and Luke decided he would get no peeks at more of his father’s face when he was ‘on duty’.

“But there’s Captain Piett!” He waved. “Hi, Cap!”

Vader sighed. “Please. We need to talk.”

“We _always_ need to talk. I don’t want to talk about the Emperor or what you want me to do.”

“We must. This is a dangerous time for you. You can feel the Force but you cannot control it.”

“No kidding. It keeps popping up and disappearing again.” He wanted to ask about the Void he’d almost stepped into, but decided to wait. “I need a teacher. Do you think Kenobi is still alive?”

 _“What?_ Why would you think such a thing?” Rage simmered under the surface like there was lava below. Which, in Vader’s mind, there probably was, and Luke wished he hadn’t mentioned Kenobi.

“Settle down,” he murmured. “I’m just asking. I don’t think he died when I thought he did. But I can’t sense him.”

“He is dead, and dead he will stay. Even if he were alive, I would not allow you to train with him. He was an abysmal failure as a master and as a Jedi teacher.”

“Obviously,” he snarked, looking pointedly at his father. “Besides, if I wanted to train with him, you couldn’t stop me!”

“I could.”

“Yeah? You and what army?” he sneered before realizing...oh, _that_ army.

“I thought you had made some resolutions about improving your attitude and behavior.”

“Did I?” Honestly, he couldn’t remember if he had or not.

“Yes,” Vader said, but Luke didn’t completely believe him. Still….

“Fine. What should I do?”

“Kodra can help you.”

“You mean the guy who pretends he doesn’t know who you are? Well, he keeps telling me to wake up. But when I’m ‘awake’….” He had to approach this carefully. “I remember things I don’t want to remember because my walls break down. And there’s this place… it’s nothing. It’s cloudy and swirly gray stuff, sort of like Dagobah and the cave, and I’m afraid to go into it.”

“Don’t!” his father said sharply. “I don’t know what that is. It may be only because you are not trained completely… or it may be Palpatine trying to lure you to him.”

“Oh.” He grimaced. “I’m officially scared now. What’re we going to do about him?”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about our plans.”

“That was then, this is now!” It was slightly disturbing that Captain Piett was looking straight at where they sat. And that another officer was on the walkway standing on his transparent hand and it didn’t hurt. _So weird._

“I have certain plans in place, military supporters— but I must limit recruitment to avoid betrayal. And _you,_ ” a finger shook at him, “if you agree to turn to the Dark Side, _I_ will train you. I will protect you.”

“Oh, turn, turn, turn!” Luke scowled. “What is all this ‘turning’ business? I am who I am… and _what_ I am, just like you. I don’t want to end up—“ He stopped.

“Like me,” his father finished. “That is the very reason you need my training and my protection.”

“I can protect myself!”

“In some ways,” Vader conceded, and Luke wondered uneasily how much his dad knew about his recent escapade. “The broadcast you saw… the Emperor was targeting you, hoping you would become emotional and disgusted, even turn against me.”

“I’ll never turn against you, Dad. But I was revolted and upset by what I saw.” Which led to happenings that he refused to talk about.

“Yet I sense your curiosity… and possibly even your approval of my actions.”

“Not of killing people!” he denied. “That was horrible. How can you do that? Don’t you feel anything? Don’t you even feel their pain?” _Because, damn, those millions of voices crying across the galaxy come back to me sometimes._

“It is over too quickly to sense. Death by lightsaber is merciful.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that mercy.” He bit his lip. Force help him, he was going to ask. “But how do you do that twirling with your lightsaber? I can’t do that.”

“Not yet, but you will. I will show you when we are together.”

Which seemed like an impossibility. “Have you thought more about working with the Alliance?”

Vader shrugged.

“You _have!_ Oh, Father— if you could join us and—“

_“Us?”_

Luke flinched. “Well, yeah, I like it here and—“

“Because you like being with your friends, you think I should join them to destroy the Empire that I built?”

“Well… yes.” He noted his father’s choice of words and the pride behind them. “You could build a new emp— government and I could help. Think of what a fun challenge that would be!”

“We had a perfectly fine, stable Empire that worked for the betterment of everyone,” the Dark Lord snarled, “until a band of insurgents decided to make it their life’s work to harass and hinder and fight the true government, leaving only destruction in their wake.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “I guess I can see it from your point of view. But we could eliminate Palpatine and elect a new senate—”

“That would take years.”

“I know! And in the meanwhile, a...a coalition would be put in place to oversee—”

“And this coalition would be composed of whom? And who would appoint them?”

Great, he was on the opposing side of his own argument. “Decent people from both the Alliance and the Empire! Hmm…. or you and me,” he added helpfully. “Just something to think about. You’d like being with the Alliance better.” _Except for them putting you in prison maybe. Unless I can come up with a compromise._

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re a badly organized group of renegades and miscreants.”

“You could organize them! They’re my _friends!”_

“You just sent two to the hospital! How were they friends?”

“How do you _know_ that? Don’t I have any privacy?”

“NONE!” Vader roared.

“Fine. But just _think_ about, will you?” A change of subject was in order. “Hey, remember earlier when you said ‘you know where I live’? Well, I _don’t_ know. Do you live here on the ship?”

“Often it seems like it. But I have a castle on Vjun.” Vader hesitated. “We could meet there sometime.”

“Really?” Luke asked, a little wistfully because ‘sometime’ didn’t sound promising. “I’d like that. Do you have any vacation time coming?”

The Dark Lord made the sound that Luke knew was a chuckle. “Perhaps I can work it out in a month or so.”

“That long?” He couldn’t wait _forever_ for what he wanted to know. “The question you sent… what do _you_ see when you look back?”

“I don’t look back.” Vader shifted as if he was uncomfortable.

“I don’t believe you, _Ipa.”_

“That is your choice.” His father’s visage shimmered and just for a moment Luke saw a man’s head that was scarred and hairless. Then the helmet slammed back into place.

“You’re right,” he said slowly. “Everything in my life should be my choice. Like staying with the Alliance and _not_ helping you overthrow Palpatine.”

The helmet turned toward him. His father didn’t speak, but he could feel the flaring anger.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to join the Alliance?” he tried for Happy Smile, but realized he was failing miserably. “You’d be free of Palpatine, you could bring the 501st and whoever else you could, then the Alliance would have real power to take down the Emperor.”

“Your view of the galaxy is very simple. But it is _not_ simple,” Vader said starkly. “Keep your thoughts focused on what is important to you, which apparently is your wardrobe.”

“Oh—“ Luke kept his curse words to himself. “Fine. In that case I want black wrap boots and a bathrobe.” When facing such implacable stubbornness, it was enough progress just to plant the seed of an idea, he decided. “Well, I gotta go now, I have stuff to do. I’m flying battle practice tomorrow! In a x-wing!”

“Battle practice?” his father repeated. “Should I be glad?”

“That depends which side you’re on.” He scrambled to his feet and looked around. “How do I get out of here?”

And that was all it took, not even a good-bye. He was back sitting on his bunk, looking at his new clothes and calling, “Does anybody have extra hangers?”


	5. Practicing Special Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is hard working, feisty, flirty, and maybe a little Sithly. Oh, and he has another encounter with a surprise blood test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke’s new scarf/wrap: the one he wears so adorably in the RotJ sandstorm deleted scene.
> 
> FFN 65

Staring at the ceiling at 0330. No classes this morning, yet he was awake after a brief but horrifically satisfying dream in which Darth Vader used his red lightsaber to hack off the helmets of the entire 501st. Luke buried his face in the pillow, hoping to fall asleep again, but it was useless.

He hurried through his morning routine, clipped the lightsaber to his belt, shrugged on a jacket to hide it, and grabbed the practice droid. Kodra’s class wouldn’t arrive for an hour, so he had time to really test his skill with the saber.

The pre-dawn hour was dark, though the base was as busy as always. He wondered which generals were on night duty making everyone’s lives hell. Dodonna had been absent for awhile on day shift, so Luke kept sending cautious glances around as he made his way to the sparring room.

Kodra was already there, stacking mats and arranging the sticks. Did he _live_ in this room? “Hi. Will it disturb you if I practice for awhile?”

“You have no classes today.” Kodra took a second look when Luke removed his jacket. “But the room belongs to you. Anytime.” He smiled slightly. “May I watch?”

“Of course. I need pointers.” His thumb was on the activator, but he didn’t switch on the blade. “Thank you for the combat moves you’ve taught me so far. They’ve been coming in handy.”

“I have heard.” The Zabrak took the remote and examined it, then activated it and tossed it into the air where it hovered and waited.

Luke spread his legs apart and activated the blade.

“Sloppy stance,” Kodra commented. “Tighten up.”

“What? Ow!” Distracted, he was struck by a bolt of energy. “Knock it off, I’m not ready!” he told the droid, which responded by sending another bolt at him. This time he blocked it. He pulled himself straighter and turned his legs slightly. “Better?”

“Yes. But you will take all day to practice this way. Adjust its speed.”

“I can do that?” He tried to grab the globe, but it danced away from him. From the side of his vision, he saw Kodra fold his arms. “Hold still!”

 _It does not respond to verbal commands,_ he remembered his dad saying lightly from another time, a different situation. Luke channeled his thoughts, reaching for the Force that was sometimes elusive to him. This time he found it and deactivated the seeker. Sure enough, it had some sort of control panel mounted flush against the surface and he fiddled with it.

Sudden he heard the familiar sizzle of a laser activation, and he whirled.

Kodra. With a gleaming blue blade raised in front of him. Suddenly it was in motion, but not toward Luke. It made blindingly fast circles above and around, Kodra spun, so poised, the blade swirling in patterns too blurred for Luke to remember. He deactivated his own blade to better study—

But the man attacked, forcing Luke to flick on his saber and block. His instructor smiled wolfishly as they remained locked blade against blade. “Never put your weapon aside when faced with another, be it friend or foe.”

Luke didn’t nod, his eyes focused on the other’s, gauging his intent. Not a Jedi, not a Sith, not even much of a Force user, but this was a master swordsman he faced. “Teach me.” It was not a request, and he shoved Kodra back with a touch from his mind.

“You use an aggressive Force? Sith?” 

The words were soft, but they distracted him and he hesitated long enough for Kodra’s blade to swipe his arm. It burned only a little, and he realized it was barely more than a practice blade without a lethal setting.

“Mine is real,” he warned. “It can kill you.”

“If that is your intention.” The instructor took a step back. “Your choice. Kill or learn.”

“Learn,” he replied without hesitation and added, “Master.”

 **OooOoo**

“What the freakin’ hell?” Hobbie demanded as Luke joined the team at breakfast. “You didn’t tell us the whole story— you left out the part about rescuing the princess!”

“Why do _I_ never hear gossip about you guys?” Luke complained. “Everything I do gets spread around, but what do I ever hear? _Nothing!”_

“Because we don’t do anything,” Wedge grumbled. “Our lives are boring. No adventures, no fancy clothes, no mysterious—”

“That reminds me,” Janson interrupted, “I have a birthday present for you.”

He slid a wary glance toward him. “What is it?”

“You’ll like it, I promise. Later, after we fly. After lunch.”

“Lunch?” Commander Narra interjected. “We’re training at 0900 and you think we’re going to break for lunch?”

There were a few downcast looks. “Maybe we should eat extra breakfast?” Luke suggested, only to be met with a chorus of ‘no’s.

“Trust me,” Wedge said. “You don’t want more food in your stomach when we’re going through maneuvers.”

“Because it won’t stay there,” Porkins clarified ruefully.

Oh. Luke frowned and pushed aside the remains of his meal, hoping he hadn’t eaten too much already. But he’d fought the practice droid and Kodra for an hour, then stayed for his two classes even though he’d been excused, and he was _hungry_.

“When you’re done, suit up and start checking your fighters.” Narra stood and carried his tray away.

“Already? But it’s way early,” Luke protested, although he had nothing else to do that could be accomplished in an hour.

“Flying at 0900 doesn’t mean that’s when you show up,” Zev said. “We’re expected to be there for prep.”

Work, work, work. That was all he did anymore. Sort of. Sighing, Luke followed along as they returned to barracks to prepare for… more work.

 **OooOoo**

He felt much happier about it by the time he got to the hangar. He was flying— by himself in a fully-armed fighter! The last time he had been in an x-wing—

He stopped the memory.

“Right hands!” someone shouted, and he joined the line of pilots who were holding out their hands. A medical tech hovered over each one for a moment, recorded their names, looked at his data screen, and moved on.

Standing next to Luke, it was Zev’s turn. The man touched his thumb and said “Senesca, one hundred percent human, type O-positive.”

He couldn’t quite tell what the medtech was doing, but when the man took his wrist, he felt a sharp stab to his prosthetic digit. “Ouch!”

The tech looked at his screen. “Loneozner….That’s— Do you have an artificial hand?” And when Luke nodded, he demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask!”

“Left hand.”

Luke hid it behind his back. “Why?”

“Blood sample.” The man snapped his fingers. “I haven’t got all day.”

“Why?”

Janson chuckled. “So if we don’t come back, they have a souvenir to send home to our families.”

“Wes!” Zev protested, then looked at Luke. “They do this before every run when possible. It’s part identity verification and mostly— well, mostly so they know they have the right blood on hand in case we need an emergency transfusion.”

“Oh.” Reluctantly Luke surrendered his left hand, wincing at the poke that hurt more than the minor saber burn had.

“Loneozner… seventy— Wait. What sort of thumb is this?”

“What d’you mean, what sort of thumb? It’s _my_ thumb, that’s what sort it is!” He was indignant on behalf of his thumb. “I’ve had it all my life! There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“Fine,” the man snapped back. “Loneozner, seventy-five percent human, twenty-five percent unknown, type A-something-negative-maybe. Whatever you are, try not to bleed out because we might not be able to transfuse you.”

Luke scowled and rubbed his thumb.

“What is twenty-five percent unknown?” Hobbie asked. “Is some part of you animal, vegetable or mineral?”

He sighed. “I think it’s maybe the Force,” he offered. If his dad really had no father and the improbable story was actually true and not a fable, that the Force _was_ his father’s father and Vader was fifty percent non-human, then Luke would be…. “Yeah, it’s the Force.”

“Well, let’s hope the Force part doesn’t bleed.” Zev cast a worried look at him.

“That could be awkward. Hey, Commander,” Hobbie called. “Oz is only seventy-five percent human! Which part of him do you think is a lizard? Or a sea monster?”

“Do you have a tentacle?” Janson widened his eyes.

Luke groaned. “I can’t believe you went there.”

“If he has a tentacle, I want it!” Hobbie declared.

“No, I do!”

“Stars!” Luke held up his hand. “Stop fighting, boys, there’s enough of me to go around!”

In the abrupt silence that followed, he realized Narra and Zev were staring at him while the others had looked away.

Janson gazed upward. “Now _that’s_ what I call awkward.”

“Now I can’t believe _I_ went there.” Luke offered a sheepish grin. “I guess… stormtroopers or no, I can still make a joke. And take one. A joke, I mean, not….”

“Okay, enough of that!” Zev clapped his shoulder. “Like Sir says, let’s get to work.”

“He didn’t say that,” Luke pointed out, but Narra looked at him. “Or maybe he did.”

“Last check on the fighters,” the commander said and added in a low voice, “You especially, Oz.”

 _In case it’s been sabotaged._ He nodded, certain he could reach the Force well enough to feel all his ship’s components.

 **OooOoo**

Hours. Hours and hours. It was late afternoon before they returned to base. Intense, Narra had warned, and it had been, but it had also been glorious. Luke felt rejuvenated— like he was fifteen again and taking his first space flight in the Falleen ship. The x-wing was certainly more maneuverable than the Falleen’s vessel, but it fell short of the TIE’s speed. Which he probably shouldn’t mention to anyone.

All things considered, he felt safer in the X than in a TIE. Maybe it was clunkier but it seemed designed to bring its pilots home safely, which was more than he could say for the TIEs.

“I’m starving,” Luke mumbled to Zev as they began the after-flight inspections of their ships.

“We’re all hungry,” Narra said, overhearing. “When you get your work done— and done properly— then you can go eat.”

 _“E chu ta,”_ Luke said under his breath, and Zev snorted.

“You have something you want to say, Loneozner?”

He hated that name! “No, sir,” he called. “Just going over the checklist.” He grinned at Zev.

“Senesca, is that your fighter?”

“No, sir, I’m just going over there now.” He punched Luke’s shoulder. “Thanks for getting me in trouble with the boss.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

“Senesca! _Now!”_

 **OooOoo**

He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the enormous piece of fabric that was Janson’s birthday gift to him. “What do I do with it? Is it a blanket?”

“Oh, please. I’ll show you. But go change into something more appropriate,” Wes muttered. “This is not meant to be worn with a jumpsuit.”

“I’ll do my best.” And his best turned out to be black pants and the purple t-shirt, because if crystals didn’t go well with that scarf, nothing would.

“Better.” Janson threw the entire fabric over his head, and he struggled to get it off his face. “Hold still. I’ll fix it.”

“More like you’ll _fuss_ with it,” Porkins commented.

But Wes rearranged and draped and tweaked until he was satisfied. “Perfect. Go look in the mirror.”

Okay. He studied himself in the ‘fresher mirror and had to admit that he looked… adorable. The orange knit, woven with gold threads, was wrapped around his head, then a few more times around his neck to make a thick cowl, and still had long tails dragging almost to the ground. He tugged it a little more forward to shade his face and practiced a dazzling Happy Smile. Then he tried an expression involving his long lashes that he decided to call Sultry Flirt. Turning to one side, he cast a look over his shoulder into the mirror, but was uncertain what to name that one. Anyway, it needed more work before it was ready to be unveiled.

“Are you done admiring yourself?” Janson called.

Well, no, but…. Luke returned and gave Wes a Happy Smile. No one else was paying attention except for brief glances at his new apparel. “Thank you, I love it.”

“You’re welcome. It was my favorite for years, but I’ve grown out of it.”

“You haven’t put on _that_ much weight… or have you?” Hobbie smiled sweetly.

“I haven’t put on _any_ weight,” Janson said loftily. “I’ve merely matured beyond the need to overtly display my gorgeousness.”

“Well, whatever. I like it.” Luke pulled the wrap over his face for a moment, then tucked it back. “Can I run something by you guys? Something I read.”

“Are you still studying about Sith?”

“No, Jedi. But honestly, they’re both sort of perverse.”

“Do tell. And where did you get those muscles?” Hobbie was staring at his biceps.

“Working out.” He grabbed his datapad and swiped back a few screens to his notes. “Here… the Jedi are afraid of ‘attachment’, which I think means loving someone. It says, ‘attachment leads to jealousy which leads to anger which leads to the Dark Side’. And after that, apparently all hell breaks loose.”

“So Jedi aren’t supposed to fall in love?”

“Not just that, they’re not supposed to love _anyone_ , only life in general. They can’t even love family. How is that good? I mean, it’s one thing to demand celibacy, but not even loving your _family?”_

“Are you planning on being celibate?” Janson asked with a frown.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Luke replied slowly. “But I already love my father and I’m not supposed to— although I’m not a Jedi. But the Sith apparently don’t want love either— they’re afraid it will compromise their… well, ruthlessness.”

“You said you don’t have to be one or the other.”

“I’m not.” Luke sighed. “It’s just confusing. I don’t know what to believe.”

“Don’t you?” Zev asked. “You said you love your father, so you must believe that love is good.”

“Yeah.” He fidgeted, tucking one leg under him. “He wants me to join his business,” he said cautiously, aware that Narra lifted his head and looked. “But I don’t want to.”

“A lot of us have been through that,” Porkins offered. “Parents want their kids to follow them, it’s natural. You have to live your own life.”

“Yeah… but it’s complicated.” Throwing an evil emperor into the mix made his own life messier. He twisted the new bracelet, stroking his fingers along its cool surface. “He wants me to change, but we both know that‘s not working out very well.”

“What do _you_ want?” Narra asked.

Luke grinned. “That’s easy. I want to change _him_.”

“You can’t change people,” Janson said flatly. “No matter how much you want it. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He waited, but Janson didn’t elaborate.

“You said your father was dead,” Wedge stated bluntly, and Luke marveled at his restraint in waiting this long. Antilles had been at the interrogation nearly a year ago when he’d revealed that Anakin Skywalker had been his father. And the entire galaxy knew that Anakin was dead. Well…. _almost_ the entire galaxy.

“Did I?” Luke parried. He hesitated, waiting for Narra to intervene but he didn’t. “Maybe I’ve lied now and then.” Better to ruin his reputation further than to reveal his parentage. “Or maybe not. It’s hard to keep track.”

“He never said that. When did he say that?” Hobbie turned toward Wedge, and Luke wished they would all leave it alone. And maybe they would, if he’d ever learn to shut up.

Or maybe he could talk in so many circles that they’d never figure it out. “I thought he was dead, then I found out he wasn’t, and now he runs his own business because he had to quit what he used to do.”

“What did he use to do?” Hobbie’s head swiveled toward him.

Wedge folded his arms and looked at him, waiting.

 _Take him out,_ his father said in his head. _You should have done it long ago. All of those who were at the hearing._

Luke sighed and pulled himself in a tight ball, knowing what Zev had thought about this posture - _protective, poor kid._

“Leave him alone,” Zev said predictably.

Wedge coughed once. Twice. Three times. “I need a—“ His voice caught on an inhalation and he gasped for air.

“He needs a drink,” Luke offered solicitously. “Poor guy is choking. Pork— there’s water— yeah. How’s that? Better?”

It was several seconds before the red began to fade from Wedge’s face. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Swallowed the wrong way….” He coughed again and cleared his throat a few times. 

So much for his dad not changing him. Still, at least he hadn’t killed Wedge, just shut him up.

_For the moment._

_Leave me alone._ He nearly said it aloud and shook his head, wondering if he would ever have a life of his own, free of his father.

_You wish to be free of me?_

He rested his forehead on his knees. What was the saying?... _one step forward, two steps back…._

“Let’s table this discussion for another time,” Zev suggested.

“Or never,” Luke muttered.

“It’s close to lights out,” Narra reminded. “It’s been a long day.”

There were murmured agreements as everyone rose. Luke lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Wedge until the other couldn’t continue pretending he didn’t see it. The dark-haired pilot stopped in front of him, his posture challenging.

“Don’t mess with me, Wedge,” Luke said quietly, staring with neither a smile nor a blink. He stood, unfolding gracefully from the sofa.

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll regret it.”

“Stop it.” Janson stepped between them. “It’s bad enough we have to put up with Greens starting a pissing contest, we don’t need to do it with each other.”

He had to break off; Janson was in the way and Luke didn’t want him damaged. Janson fiddled with the wrap, tucking it closer around Luke’s neck. “There you go, that’s better. You look gorgeous. If I weren’t so arrow-straight, I’d go for you myself.”

“Arrow-straight? Ha!” Hobbie echoed and punched Wedge’s shoulder. “We’re knee-deep in lies, kid, just accept it and move on. C’mon, I’ll help you brush your teeth,” he added as he steered Wedge out of the room.

“Thanks,” he said softly to Janson, peeking from under his eyelashes, one of the poses he’d practiced in front of the mirror. He guessed it was effective because Wes looked rattled.

“Oh, go ahead, break my heart! Good night.” A finger brushed his scarf, then Janson left quickly, his face flushed.

But there was a hand on his shoulder. Luke tilted his head and looked sideways, sending Zev the same look accompanied by a tiny smile.

Zev was not as easily flustered as Janson; still, he laughed a little and dropped his hand. “You’re something else. Good work today. See you in the morning.”

Now he just had Narra to get by. He tried Sultry Flirt for a third time. Narra rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe grown men fall for that.”

Luke laughed and then caught his lower lip with his teeth because that was a good look too.

It didn’t work. “In my office,” Narra said.

Hmm… maybe it _had_ worked.

Luke followed him.

“Close the door. Sit down.”

Frowning, he obeyed. “What did I do?”

“You’re not in trouble.” The commander leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “What were you doing just now?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you mean.” He shrugged.

Narra sighed, probably a habit that he would never break. “We reassured you that you would be safe here, yet the first chance you get, you try to push everyone to find their limits. Is that it? Do you not believe you’re safe— do you not _want_ to be? Do you _want_ someone to overstep the boundaries you’ve set in your mind?”

Luke’s mouth dropped open. “I… what? I’m just… I was just…. Don’t _analyze_ me!” he snapped. “You never scold Janson or anyone else for the things _they_ say, so why me?”

The squad leader looked down for a moment, hesitating. “Because there’s more intent behind your words,” he said slowly. “You’re… a magnet. You use your looks and personality to manipulate others. And while we all use what’s available to us, you— well, what you have available is more powerful than most people have. You have a combination of innocence and— and—“

“Depravity?” he offered.

Narra closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No. Where do you get that kind of idea?”

“From my mind. My dad always asked me that too.” Happy memories about his dad cheered him up.

“Fey. Otherworldly. That’s what I’m trying to say, and—“

“Like my shirt!” He lifted the scarf to remind Sir about Deep Space Sprite.

Narra stared at it. “And that was a gift from…?”

“Yeah. Dad.” He grinned, feeling exhilarated and mischievous. There was something about the commander that made him want to tease like he did with his father. _I’m yanking your chain, Dad._

“Let me finish. The more training you’re doing, the more—“

“Irresistible I become?” Luke volunteered. Hah, and he’d thought Sultry Flirt hadn’t worked on Narra!

“The more arrogant and dangerous you become.” The commander ignored his interruption this time. “And I’m not talking only about physical prowess. If you continue this behavior, one day you may find yourself in a situation you can’t handle.”

“I doubt that.” Maybe he was going too far. Time for a course reversal. “Look, Commander, I’m not used to being… having nice things and looking good. I’m enjoying it. Is that so terrible? Tomorrow I could be dead in battle.” _No chance._ “So let me enjoy myself now.”

 _“Are_ you enjoying yourself?” There was real curiosity in the question.

“Sometimes.” He rested one foot on the opposite knee and picked at the edge of his boot. “A lot of things are difficult to think about and cope with. So if I want to play and have a little fun, can’t you just let me be?”

Narra leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to see division or disruption in my squad. And that’s where you’re headed if you aren’t careful. All things aren’t about you, Luke. Other people have feelings. You need to be more aware of that.”

Seven hells. More things he had to be aware of, things to say, things not to say, things not to think— “I’ll try,” he said resignedly, because what else could he say? “I just talk faster than I think.”

“Believe me, I know.” Narra stood. “Now you and your blanket and your TIE tattoo that you keep trying to hide— go to bed. Supply run tomorrow morning with Porkins.”

Ugh. Supply run? He almost whined a protest, then decided that since he’d be flying, he’d be gracious. “Okay. G’night, Sir!”

Well, he’d exercised two powers in one evening— charming and choking. Not exactly Jedi- or Sith-like, but very Luke-like.

Eventually he’d find himself.

Maybe as a magnet. A dangerous, innocent, irresistible magnet. And a little fey.

# # #


	6. Feeling Feisty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A father-son chat, Wedge and Luke have a confrontation, and Luke is in trouble again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to Fialleril for the language.
> 
> [The Truth Interludes: Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578542/chapters/59908441) precedes this chapter

****Really, what was the point of even _trying_ to sleep? The harder he concentrated, the awaker he was. Maybe meditation would help, so he decided to try that. _Ipa... I could use some help with sleeping._

“Apparently you do not truly require my assistance.”

He yelped and sat up. Darth Vader sat on the foot of his bed. Or more accurately, Vader sat on his _foot_. Feet. Both of them.

“What’re you _doing_ here?” Immediately he covered his mouth, hoping no one heard him. “How’d you get in?”

“You invited me.” The voice sounded serious, but Luke could hear laughter underneath. 

“Yeah, but…. Am I meditating or asleep?”

“Well,” Vader said slowly, “you are sitting on your head, so you decide.”

“I’m what?” Scrambling over, he looked down. “That’s my head! I could have smothered myself!” He looked over and realized he hadn’t locked his door. “What if someone comes in?”

“Just _who_ are you expecting?” his father demanded.

“Nobody! I meant—“ He frowned. “Okay, they’d see me sleeping, right?”

“Correct. Now, why did you call to me?”

He heaved a big sigh. “I need help. I haven’t slept for nights and nights.”

Black fingers folded together. “What are you doing now?”

“Well.” Luke cleared his throat. “Sleeping, I guess. But that’s— I haven’t slept for ages! This is an accident. And… I was meditating.”

“Perhaps meditation is the key to unlock slumber for you.”

“Fine.” Luke shifted, moving closer to his father and away from his own peaceful, quiet, _sleeping_ face. “I have questions. Can you please explain attachment? I don’t understand. It means loving someone, right?”

“Essentially. It is a Jedi prohibition,” Vader said stiffly. “They believe that attachment leads to unwanted emotions and reactions.”

“And Sith don’t like it either, right? Because they think it makes them weak.”

Vader was silent for a few moments. “Both Jedi and Sith believe that such strong emotions cause them to become vulnerable.”

 _Them, not us?_ “So the Jedi are afraid attachment will lead to the Dark Side, and the Sith are afraid attachment leads to the Light? Except the Force is neutral… so wouldn’t it lead them both to somewhere in the middle?”

Another silence, then: “What is the point of your question?”

That was an evasion if he’d ever heard one. “Well, you’re Sith and if you aren’t supposed to love anyone, then you can’t love _me._ Unless you decide to be neutral. In the middle.”

“There _is_ no middle,” Vader said crossly and folded his arms. “You do not know what you are talking about.”

“I know I don’t, that’s why I’m asking you! And _you_ said there was a middle— a grey part, remember?” He folded his own arms and glared. “You’re my father, you’re supposed to teach me, and if I’m neutral then you’re supposed to meet me halfway. In the neutral zone.”

“The neutral zone.” Just to be contrary, Vader unfolded his arms, so Luke did the same. “We are speaking. I tolerate your indecisiveness. That is as neutral as I will be.”

“It’s a step in the right direction,” he allowed. “Although I disagree that I’m indecisive. I’m simply exploring my options.”

“Exploring your— You have been watching too much holovision.”

“Our holo has been broken for months!” Luke frowned. “So do you love me or not?”

Silence.

“Okay, how about this? If you don’t love me, say” —he switched to his best Vader booming voice— “‘Son, I do not love you, in fact you are a nuisance and I wish you hadn’t been born’. But if you _do_ love me, don’t say anything.”

The Sith Lord was motionless except for a slightly perplexed tilt of his helmet.

“I knew it!” Luke exclaimed smugly. “You love me! That’s good, because it’s mutual. Now, I have some other things to ask. Like—- they did a genetic test and I’m twenty-five percent non-human. Actually, they said ‘unknown’ like I was an unidentified alien mutant. Is that the Force part?”

“Your mother was fully human. So unless you are insinuating that she was unfaithful to me—“

“No!”

“—then the remaining portion is indeed the Force. I told you my heritage.”

“I know, I know, I was just double-checking!”

“I am fifty percent human and fifty percent Force being. The Force is exceptionally strong in you, though not as strong as in me—“

“Of course not.” Did his father hear the sarcasm?

Without the sound of the respirator, it wasn’t clear to him that his father was really there. Well, not _really_ really there because they were meditating, but—

“Okay. Never mind. Subject closed. Next question.” He cleared his throat. “Why can’t you heal yourself?”

“Healing is a Light Side power,” Vader said stiffly.

“Hrmph. Maybe it would work in Neutral, too.” He frowned. “What if I was hurt and dying? Could you heal me? Would you try, even if it meant being not as Sithly?”

“Luke… why do you suddenly need reassurances of your importance?”

“By ‘importance’, do you mean to you personally or to you-the-plotting-Sith?”

“Why do you believe there is a difference?”

“Why do you think there isn’t?” He wished he could see behind the mask. “If you were Neutral— I like that better than saying ‘Third Side’, don’t you? That was Jovay’s thing— besides, that just means regular people, not Force users— Anyway, if you were Neutral, you could love me, we could get rid of Palpatine but not be stuck governing. We could do so much, we could go places. I promised Fixer that I’d come back to Tatooine and free the slaves. We could do that!”

“Luke, your dreams are—“

“Don’t say ridiculous!” Now he was almost angry, but bit it back. “You’re stuck in some antiquated machinery while new stuff has improved so much in the last decade— I’ve read about it, you’ve probably researched it too— You could get implants or at least a new outfit so you didn’t look like— well, like a really conspicuous Sith Lord. You could wear another color, we could have matching uniforms and—“

“Stop.” His father’s voice sounded weary. “If you invested as much time in practicalities as you do in daydreaming, you would—“

“Those _are_ practicalities!” he interrupted heatedly. “And so what if they’re dreams too? They’re all _possible_. We could do things together. Let the galaxy figure out what to do with itself after the Emperor is gone. We can be independent.”

“Independent or selfish?”

Luke chewed on his lower lip. “You— okay, maybe my dreams are selfish, so what? Aren’t yours?” They sat quietly for a few minutes. “Just think about what I said, okay? And if you ever want to tell me what you really think… then tell me. I’ll listen.”

“That would be a refreshing change.”

He was almost beyond aggravated. “Okay, and by the way, why do you have to wait for me to improve my skills so we can kill the emperor? Why can’t you just leave the old creep?”

“And go where?”

Oh. That was an unexpected question. He must have struck a chord somewhere inside his father. “Come here. We can figure something out. Or just leave and I’ll go with you. We could go to Wild Space, somewhere he’d never find us. Just consider it.”

He really hoped Vader would think about his ideas. But now it was time to lighten up so he didn’t back his dad into a corner that neither of them could escape from. “Hey, did you order my boots and bathrobe? I could use pajamas, too. I hate to be only in my underwear when I get up during the night. I’m not comfortable with the guys looking at me,” he added innocently, knowing that was the quickest way to circumvent any scolding he might receive about wardrobe and greed.

“If you get up in the night, clothe yourself!” Vader snapped. “You are too young to be— to be exposed to— to want to—“

A thought occurred to him. If he waited until his father was swaying toward Neutral and then told him about the stormtroopers, that might be the final push Vader needed to change sides. Maybe. Although if he joined the Alliance, it would be good if he brought the 501st, so….

Okay, maybe instead he’d tell his dad that Dodonna plotted to kill him. Or maybe not. Hard to decide, he’d just have to wait to see which way his father swung.

“I hate to bother you every time I need something, Father.” He tried the peek-from-under-eyelashes look, deleting the Sultry aspect. “But I can’t order anything using my account— _your_ account— and tell them to ship it to the Rebel Alliance.”

He just _knew_ that under the helmet Vader was gazing skyward. “Contact Jovay for your needs.”

“I don’t know how—“

“Com him. I am certain Commander Narra will be able to provide a secure comlink for you.”

“You are?” What did _that_ mean? Luke was pretty positive that Narra wasn’t a… well, _spy._ “Why?”

“He likes you. Obviously,” the Dark Lord added dryly. “Otherwise you would be living in the brig most days.”

“I would _not—“_

“And,” Vader shook his finger, “I want you to stop shouting at me.”

“I don’t!”

“You do, every time you do whatever you do to get my attention.”

“I just—“ He considered. “I just tug that string-thing that connects us.”

“There is no string. But if that is the image you use, pluck it gently as you would a delicate instrument. There is no need to yank. I am always there.”

“That’s the truth,” he agreed. “Even sometimes when I don’t know you’re there. Consider yourself warned— one day I’ll figure out how to sneak up on _you_ like that!”

“I am warned.” Vader’s non-existent finger brushed his non-existent cheek. “Now sleep, _em vikka_. We will talk again.”

“Okay. But don’t forget we’re going to meet in person soon.” He yawned and felt himself beginning to drift down. “I have a lot more questions.”

“More?”

“If we were together, I wouldn’t ask them all at once. Just… one per day. I like talking with you.”

“You like talking _at_ me.”

“Mmm…. we’re going to your castle soon. Don’t forget….”

“I have not forgotten,” were the last words he heard as he faded back into his sleeping body.

 **OooOoo**

He couldn’t be distracted during his classes or working, but over lunch he thought about the conversation with his father. As usual, it had been composed of more questions than answers, but he figured he’d given his dad a lot of options to consider.

Wedge was across the table, refusing to look at him, and that was distracting, so….

Antilles coughed and ran one finger under his collar. Coughed again and took a sip of water. Cleared his throat. Coughed.

“Are you getting sick?” he asked politely, then added under his breath to Zev: “I hope he’s not contagious.”

“That would be bad. Wedge?” Zev raised his voice. “Do you think you’re contagious?”

At the far end of the table Commander Narra looked up from his food. “Antilles? Are you ill?”

“No, I’m—” Wedge had a choking fit and his face turned bright red.

Luke leaned back in his chair as though putting more distance between them. “Whatever you’ve got, I don’t want it!”

Wedge looked like he wanted to snap back, but couldn’t because he was coughing continually.

“That’s it.” Narra stood. “We’re going to the medbay and have you checked out.”

“No—I—I—“

“Now. You don’t want to expose the entire squad. We can’t afford to be down.”

Luke watched them leave. “I hope he’s okay. Maybe I should practice healing powers on him.”

Janson turned his head. “You have healing powers?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and smiled modestly. “That’s why I said ‘practice’. To see if I can do anything.”

“Maybe you can heal my finger,” Zev said, holding up his right hand and showing off a bandage that was leaking blood.

“Ooh, good! Let me try.” He took Zev’s hand and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes. This was fun, but who knew, maybe it would work. He thought about spreading warmth and pulling together broken skin, careful not to get the bloody part on his face.

Janson sighed. “I have a cut, too. Somewhere. I’ll find one.”

“Don’t interrupt.” Luke refocused. He wasn’t sure, but maybe he was actually feeling the pain. Or not. “I don’t think it will work with the bandage on.”

“Well, I’m not taking it off at the table. Maybe tonight we can try it.” Zev’s voice was slightly husky— unless that was Luke’s imagination.

“Yeah, we can try mine tonight too,” Janson suggested.

Hobbie’s lips twitched. “I’m pretty sure I have an owie somewhere.”

“If not, I can give you one.”

“Thanks, Wes, appreciate that.”

Luke released Zev’s hand. “Sorry, I’ll try again later.”

“Uh… yeah. I actually think it feels a bit better.”

“Oh good!” Luke beamed at him. “I hate to see you in pain. Or anyone,” he added when Janson snorted.

 **OooOoo**

After lunch, Wedge was back. “They didn’t find anything,” he announced loudly as he walked toward his X. “Stuck me with enough needles and poked a stick down my throat.”

“Too bad you didn’t choke on it,” Luke mumbled, soft enough for only Wedge to hear.

Antilles turned. “Sleemo!” he hissed.

“Oh, please!” Luke laughed. “How juvenile! Don’t pretend you understand any Tatooine languages, you’ll just get the words wrong.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hands on hips, Wedge confronted him near the nose of his X. “I know a lot about Tatooine— you’re all a bunch of gangsters and low-life, low-class scum. And now I get who your father is and why you don’t want to talk about him.”

He shifted uneasily. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Pah.” Wedge spit on the floor between their feet. “He’s a kriffin’ _slaver_ , that’s why he’s so rich and you won’t say anything because you—”

The breath was knocked out of Wedge as Luke hurled himself at him, knocking him down and punching his face. “You shut up! Shut up!” He tried to punch again, but Wedge rolled on top of him and began to pummel at his head. Luke kneed him in the balls, but not before he’d landed one good slug.

“Krit!” Wedge doubled over, clutching his groin, but in a flash he was reacting, legs catching Luke around the knees as he tried to stand.

“Hey! Knock it off!” A Gold pilot grabbed Luke from behind, lifting him off his feet, but he kicked out, catching Wedge in the shoulder. Then Janson was there, yanking Wedge back, trying to keep hold of him as he punched uselessly into the air.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Narra called.

Luke struggled against the pilot who had him pinned around his arms and chest. “Put me down!” He tried to kick backward, but Goldie was strong and not inexperienced. A Force whack would free him, but he was too angry to use it. “Let go! Get off me!”

Zev was in front of him, crowding close, blocking him so he couldn’t see Wedge. “Stop. That’s enough, Oz. You need to stop.”

Goldie’s grip tightened as he struggled, and Luke could feel the heavy body pressing against his back and it reminded him— reminded him— “Get off me!” he repeated as panic began to edge in. “Get off get off get off! Let me go!”

... _get off me let me go please I won’t tell…._

“Let him go,” Zev ordered, and the Gold pilot released him. “You’re all right. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Luke struggled to stop shuddering and breathe, just breathe, let the memory subside. “I’m… I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.” But he rested his forehead on Zev’s shoulder for a moment before he straightened. “I’m fine.” He tried to pull free and locate Wedge because they weren’t _finished_.

“You both settle down,” Narra said sharply.

Boss arrived and looked over the scene. “Problem, Commander?”

“Nothing to be concerned about. Teenage hormones,” Narra offered mildly.

Luke and Wedge made similar disparaging sounds of protest and looked at each other. “I’m not a teenager,” Wedge said.

“You are too. Or nearly.” He couldn’t get closer because Zev’s grip was still on his arm. “And my father is _not_ a slaver— how dare you?! What the hell did your fa—”

“Enough! If you’re not able to be professional, then you’re going to the barracks like children sent to their rooms. Understood?”

“Krit,” Janson murmured, “we wouldn’t have a barracks to come back to.”

Luke yanked his arm free. “Fine. If Wedge takes it back, I won’t pound on him.”

“Fine,” Wedge said in a surly tone, not at all apologetic. “I take it back.”

“Fine!”

Boss sent Narra a pitying look and left. Their squad commander considered them a long moment before saying, “Oz, you’re not doing the supply run with Porkins today.”

“No! That’s not fair—”

“You’re going with Antilles.”

They both groaned. “The old ‘put them together and make them work it out’ routine,” Wedge grumbled.

“Or kill each other,” Luke responded warily.

“Exactly. You’re not children. You’re on an important mission for the Alliance, and I expect you both to behave like adults.”

“I can pretend if he can,” Luke mumbled.

“Fine!” Wedge said, and they glowered at each other.

“You’d better not have gotten blood on my clothes,” he warned, determined to get the last word. “And _I’m_ piloting.”

Wedge rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

Damn. “Don’t cough on me!”

“You should be so lucky!”

“That makes no sense!”

“Enough,” Narra ordered. “Pick up the requisition sheets and go!”

“Fine,” Luke muttered, and Wedge scowled silently at him.

_Last word, I won!_

**OooOoo**

Well, sure, everything was fine until they entered hyper. Then there was nothing to do except to avoid looking at each other.

“You don’t have to stay up here,” Wedge said finally. “You can go to the back.”

“I don’t want to.” He stared out the view screen, bored by the endless blue tunnel effect, but unwilling to leave the cockpit.

The silence stretched for a few minutes, and Luke reflected that sometimes there was way too much silence in his life. “Say something.”

“I don’t want to,” Wedge parroted.

“You are such a jerk. And a Big Mouth. My father is none of your business.” Luke folded his arms, hoping he looked like Darth Vader when he did that. “And you sure as hell have no right to insult him. He’s _not_ a slaver!”

Antilles shrugged. “Well… okay. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I was just—” He looked at Luke. “Why do you always lie? Why didn’t you say he was a Jedi? And what— now he’s not? Did he just quit? What?”

Luke clicked his tongue in annoyance. “C’mon, the Jedi were all killed. He couldn’t keep being one.” That was about as far as he could go.

“I guess.” Wedge frowned. “But why won’t you say what he does now? Hey, did he change his name? He couldn’t be Skywalker any more, could he?”

“No… I mean, yes, he had to change it, and no— I mean, yes, he couldn’t be Skywalker. Would you just drop it?”

Wedge looked peeved. “Fine.” He paused. “Hey, you want to take over the controls?”

“While we’re in hyper? What’s the point? But yeah, when we get out.”

“No.” Wedge glanced over again. “Maybe on the way back.”

“I don’t know what you think I’m going to do! I’ve flown the x-wing and a T—” Oops.

“TIE, we all know, Mr. Big Mouth.”

“Who said that?” _Zev?_ Did Zev blab to everyone?

“Please. You’ve almost said it so many times. It’s not like it’s a long word. As soon as you said ‘T’ we all figured it out.”

“Oh.” Well, okay, maybe he _had_ boasted a few times. “Well… it’s not like it was in battle or anything. More like an… excursion.”

“Excursion? Who gets joy rides in a— Oh.”

“Oh what?” he asked uneasily.

“Sienar shipyards! That’s where your dad works!” Wedge said excitedly, then frowned. “Or their weapons division. I _wasn’t_ wrong, was I! He’s an arms dealer!”

Luke clamped his mouth shut. Slaver, arms dealer, spice merchant— no, his dad was nothing horrible like that, only a Dark Lord of the Sith. _Get some perspective, people!_

“Either way,” Wedge continued, satisfied with his discovery, “it explains why Command lets you be here without enlisting. You’re valuable. Like a hostage.”

“I earn my keep!” he snapped.

Wait… a _hostage?_

“Yeah,” the other pilot agreed. “I guess. Okay, I get why you're embarrassed about your dad. You have… well, I was going to say that you have more moral scruples than he does, but maybe I should just shut up.”

“Maybe you should.” Silently he fumed, realizing that he should leave it alone and let Wedge think whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter. But it did. “I’m not _embarrassed_ by him.”

Wedge shrugged. “Whatever.”

 _Whatever._ Luke vowed to never say that word again.

 **OooOoo**

“Good to see you’re both alive,” Janson said as he removed his helmet and watched as they checked the inventory.

“Yeah. I got a whole thirty minutes of flying out of it,” Luke grumbled, sending a glare at Wedge.

“Okay.” Wes didn’t pursue the conversation. “I’m heading back to the barracks. Finish up, I’ll wait for you.”

It was only five minutes’ work to complete reviewing the manifest. “Where’s everybody else?” Wedge asked.

Janson shrugged. “I was late coming back. My X has a wobble, don’t know what’s causing it.”

“I can check later,” Luke offered. “After dinner.”

“Dinner,” Wedge echoed longingly.

“I don’t know where you kids put it. I couldn’t get away with stuffing myself like you do,” Janson said, patting his own completely flat abdomen.

Luke rolled his eyes, following the other two into the barracks. “You don’t even have—“

He stopped.

Security Chief Nikran was talking with Commander Narra while the other pilots slouched and leaned on furniture, distinctly unhappy. Everyone stared as they entered.

Luke edged to one side to see if they were focusing on Janson or Wedge. Maybe he and Wedge were in trouble for fighting. But Nikran and Narra looked directly at him, Luke Skywalker-Vader Loneozner.

They weren’t smiling.

 _Krit,_ Luke thought. _Now what?_

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he said.

“You’re under arrest,” the Security officer stated.

 **OooOoo**


	7. Framed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke’s identity is revealed as he fights drug charges, and he tries out a new Force ability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 67

“You’re under arrest.”

Luke looked at Chief Nikran and rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. I haven’t done anything. We were just pretending to fight.” He shot Wedge a glance for confirmation, but the other pilot appeared struck dumb.

“They found drugs in your bunk,” Commander Narra said wearily.

“No they didn’t.” Luke blinked. “They couldn’t. I didn’t have any.” And what did that mean— _in his bunk?_ Did they go through his belongings? His _clothes?_

“Look familiar?” Nikran held up two small cello bags filled with purple.

Oh. The violet glitt. “Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, that sucks,” Janson murmured.

“But I turned them in the day after we destroyed the Death Star. That was ages ago!”

“Really? Who did you turn them in to? And what about _this?”_

_This_ was a ragged, creased sheet of flimsi-board that he knew was the poster of his father filled with holes. Thankfully, Nikran didn’t open it and wave it around.

“It’s from darts! And— and—” Luke scowled and didn’t answer further. Boss wouldn’t have framed him this way, so he’d be damned if he would throw Boss under the speeder.

“Just as I thought.” Nikran smiled, openly pleased with himself, and nodded to the MP who accompanied him. “Take him away.”

“Hold it.” Narra stepped forward, motioning Luke back. “He said it’s not his. You can’t arrest him without evidence.”

Zev grabbed his arm and pulled him into the group. Janson protected his other side and the remaining pilots surrounded them. He wondered how far they would go to defend him.

Nikran made a phony sound of surprise. “Really, Commander? He admitted that the drugs _are_ his— that’s called a confession. He was caught with drug dealers just days ago. If it was anyone but Skywalker you’d be demanding his arrest yourself.”

 _Kriff and double kriff!_ Nikran had just spoken his name, and he knew that everyone heard it and he could see their confused expressions. He clasped his hand around his wrist and fiddled with his bracelet.

Narra turned away and spoke briefly into his com, then said: “You don’t have the authority to take him.”

“I’m Chief of Security, it’s my job, and you can’t stop me.”

“This is _my_ squad, and you’ll wait until Command gets here. They have primary authority.”

Nikran scowled, and Luke wondered what he’d done to make the man hate him. Sure, he’d had a smart mouth during their first confrontation, but that couldn’t account for this anxious need to arrest him. Had Nikran framed him?

Or had Dodonna? Sending him away for a drug sentence would be easier to explain than a flight ‘accident’. And infinitely more believable, given his history.

The silence stretched. “Did they mess up my room?” Luke asked Janson under his breath.

Janson nodded but said, “Really? _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

He shrugged. Maybe he should tug— or pluck— on his father’s string, but he would just as soon not have his dad know what was going on. Vader couldn’t help him right now, and he didn’t want to think that his father might have suspicions about the glitt. “I promised I wouldn’t do drugs again,” he said, looking at Narra. “I don’t break promises.”

The commander gave him a single nod, and he felt relieved. It seemed that despite his lies, people believed him— at least in certain areas.

When the door finally opened, it was Boss. He took in the scene and shot an aggrieved look at Luke, rightly assuming he was the cause of the disruption. “What?”

“I found these in his bunk!” Nikran held up the bags of glitt. “Commander Narra is refusing to surrender Skywalker for arrest.”

Luke squeezed his eyes closed. That was twice. Now everyone would definitely remember.

Boss blinked at the naming, but stood firm. “Indeed? That’s odd, because he turned them over to _me_ months ago.”

A smile snuck across his face. He’d known Boss wouldn’t betray him!

“And,” Commander Dreis continued, “since I had the drugs in my custody, someone stole them from my quarters. I suggest investigating _that_ would be a better use of Security’s time.” He held out his palm. “Return those to me so I can have them destroyed… since obviously security is becoming lax on this base. Perhaps Lieutenant Wohlel can head an investigation into this problem.”

Nikran’s face had first turned pale, then reddened at the implication. “Are you insinuating that _I_ would—“

“I’m saying that you are not impartial and are now part of the investigation. Report to the lieutenant and begin by explaining how you obtained the information required to instigate this inquiry. Then consider yourself confined to quarters.” Still he held out his hand, and Nikran surrendered the drugs reluctantly. “And the paper.”

Phew, Boss rescued the picture of his dad! Luke sent him a silent thanks.

“Corporal, escort him to the Command Center.”

Nikran stomped out, his MP enforcer becoming his custodian. Luke let out his breath. He was usually the defensive one, not the one _being_ defended. “Thanks.”

Dreis didn’t reply. He and Narra shared a look, then he focused on the grouped pilots. “I know you heard a name—“

“Twice,” Luke offered helpfully, and was quelled by a glance from their squad leader.

“—and you will forget that name and never repeat it to anyone. Not even among yourselves.”

“Why?” Zev asked, because he questioned everything.

“Because it’s a kriffin’ death sentence for me,” Luke mumbled, so Boss didn’t have to dissemble. That made him the recipient of sharp looks from his squad members, and he shrugged.

“Colorful, but accurate,” Boss acknowledged. “Everybody understand?”

There were nods and murmurs of unwilling assent, then Boss and Narra went into the office and closed the door.

“So,” Porkins whispered excitedly, “that means your name is Luke Skywalker… and your father is Boss’s favorite Jedi? Anakin Skywalker?”

Zev groaned, and Luke threw his hands into the air. “You’re not supposed to say that word!” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Yes. That’s why I have to hide. You know what happened to the Jedi. The Emperor would kill me.”

Hobbie grimaced. “Pork, could we all agree not to say that word again?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just excited because I remembered that Boss—“

“Don’t remember anything!” Wedge exclaimed. “Except to forget the name!”

“What name?” Porkins grinned, then sobered. “I got it. Sorry.”

Janson touched his shoulder. “They made a mess of your room. I’ll stay and help straighten up while the others go to dinner. And bring us back some food.” He looked pointedly at Hobbie.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“I can stay too,” Zev offered.

Wes shot him a strange look. “No. Go.”

“It’s okay, go ahead,” Luke said. “You need to keep up your strength so I can try healing your finger later.”

Zev nodded and returned Janson’s weird stare, then left with open reluctance. Luke glanced at the commander’s door. It was still closed, and he wondered if he should eavesdrop.

“C’mon, your clothes are heaped all over.”

“Oh no! My purple shirt too?” He wouldn’t rest until his precious shirt was safe!

“I’m sure your precious shirt is safe,” Janson said, leaving Luke wondering if he would ever have complete control over his Force projections.

So the purple shirt was the first thing he retrieved, finding it buried under some jackets. It was a little wrinkled, but smoothed flat under his gentle touch, and the crystals were still in place. He shook it out and draped it on a hanger.

“You know,” Wes said as they began to sort through the piles on the bed and floor, “you should take it a little easy with Zev.”

“What do you mean?” he asked absently as he straightened his good black trousers and folded them over another hanger.

“He’s had enough pain in his life. I don’t want to see him hurt again.”

“What?” Surprised, he glanced at Janson. “How would I hurt him? And why? I like him.”

“I know you do. Oh… this is nice.” Janson held the brown leather tabard against his chest.

“Put it on.” Luke went back to folding, but Wes’s words disturbed him. Was he jealous of the new friendship he and Zev were creating? That didn’t seem reasonable, because Zev had always been puzzlingly hostile towards him, and this new chance at friendship was a relief. “I like you too. I mean, I like everybody in the squad, but you’re my favorite. And now Zev too. I think.”

Janson sighed as he fastened the tabard on him with a belt he found in the pile. “That’s great, but—“

“Oh no!” Luke exclaimed. “They ripped this!” He held up the embroidered jacket. “Why? Why?”

The other man examined it. “It’s just the seam. Laundry can repair it, don’t worry.”

“I guess.” He sighed. “It’s just… you know… these are the nicest things I’ve ever had. I don’t like people handling them. I don’t mean you,” he added hastily. “You can touch them all you want. You appreciate them.”

“I do,” Wes agreed, then went quiet.

Luke hung up two shirts, but Wes didn’t speak again. “What were you saying about Zev?” he asked. “I know he’s sad and that bad things happened to him, but I don’t know what they were.”

Janson shook his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing— I mean, he’ll tell you if he feels like talking about it.”

“Okay.” He was still confused, not understanding why the topic of Zev had come up at all. He’d just have to wait and see if Zev said anything. “Hey, I just realized that I don’t have a poncho. I had a poncho at home. I’ll have to ask for another one.” He studied Wes. “Do you want one too? Oh, I know, I’ll get them for everybody. We can’t stay on this miserable planet forever. Maybe we’ll go somewhere cold next. I’ve never been to a cold place.” _Except the garbage._

“Oh joy. I hate cold.” The other groaned at the thought. “You should be careful how much you ask for. Your father might go broke.”

“I doubt it. Not over clothes anyway. Look! Here’s the scarf. Can you teach me how to fix it the way you did?”

And that took the next ten minutes as Janson patiently demonstrated different variations of wrapping himself in it. They were still playing when the others returned, all of them carrying their dinners.

“We’re eating together,” Hobbie declared, then looked them over. “You too, fashionistas. Before it all gets cold.”

Wedge went to the office door and tapped before opening it. “Commanders? We brought back dinner and enough for you two.”

Well, that was nice. He didn’t exactly miss Boss, but decided he liked him better now that Boss wasn’t his boss.

“So, Boss,” Zev began once the entire group was settled and eating, “any ideas on who would steal from you and plant the stuff on Oz?”

From the look on his face, Garven wasn’t going to give away his suspicions other than to say: “Someone who was counting on me not to admit that I had it.”

“I _told_ you that you might get in trouble for taking them!” Luke sipped the lukewarm milk and took another bite of an unidentifiable vegetable.

Boss sent him a Look.

“Uh… but I forgot to tell you that I don’t need them anymore and that you could dump them. They didn’t help my Force at all.” Dreis didn’t seem inclined to respond and everyone else was shoveling food in their faces, so he felt obligated to fill the silence. “You know… I didn’t know that the you-know-what-name was my name until two years ago. And I’ve never been able to call myself you-know-what. It’s a nice name, don’t you think?”

“It’s a lovely name,” Janson said between mouthfuls. “Very evocative of quiet, peaceful times, flying in the silence of space.”

Luke paused his fork in mid-lift. “Is that a nice way of telling me to stop talking?”

“Well….“

“But why? I mean, it’s not like anyone else is talking. I’m not interrupting. We don’t have a holo that works, or even music, and seriously, do you want to listen to everyone chewing? This is the quietest room I’ve ever been. Almost. Except for… other rooms.” He couldn’t say his room in the Devastator, which was silent most of the time except for the thrumming engines and bootsteps in the corridors. And his father’s breathing.

Zev chuckled. Hobbie threw a piece of veg at his head. Even the two commanders smiled indulgently.

“What?” he demanded, but was secretly pleased that he amused them. Okay, and also happy that he was the focus of their attention. It was his favorite place. “Zev, don’t forget I’m going to practice healing on you. After we’re finished with dinner.”

“I’m finished.”

He looked at the other’s clean plate. Everyone else was almost finished, too. “ _I’m_ not! You guys eat so fast. That’s not good for your digestion.”

Commander Narra turned to Dreis. “Shall we go for a walk while the boys tidy up?”

“Who’re you calling ‘boys’?” Luke grumbled.

“You and Wedge,” Porkins decided. “Hurry up and get this table cleared off so we can start a game of sabaac. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

“Cards is the only way you’ll ever get lucky.” Hobbie had a dour expression on his face. “Me too, at the rate I’m going.”

Janson sighed. “You’re pathetic. No wonder you can’t get la—“ He clamped his mouth shut and glanced at the officers. “Sorry.”

Luke snickered. “They don’t care what you say,” he volunteered. “I’m the only one who ever gets scolded.”

“Boo-hoo.” Porkins grinned. “Will you two get to work! Take all this stuff back to the mess hall. Guys, let’s deal.”

“You can’t play,” Luke said to Zev as he and Wedge began to stack the plates. “We’re going to heal you, remember?”

“How could he forget with you reminding every two minutes?” Wedge asked good-naturedly.

“And I want to watch that,” Janson added. “Sorry, Pork, it’s just the three of you.”

“Yeah,” Wedge said, piling more plates on top of what Luke already held. “You’re low man, you can take it all.”

“Fine!”

At least the commanders held the door for him as he staggered out under his burden of plates and utensils. Of course, they had a motive other than politeness.

“What is this ‘healing’ about?” Narra asked.

Luke shrugged, which sent the plates sliding to one side. He couldn’t really use the Force in public, so he had to straighten them by himself like a regular person would. “It’s just something I need to try, and he has a cut. I don’t know why he doesn’t bacta it.”

“Allergic,” Boss said, “and big scars to show for it.” 

Narra looked at him with interest. “That’s not in his record. Not a good thing.”

“I didn’t know that either,” Luke complained. “Nobody tells me anything. What happened? How did he get scars?”

“An accident that he doesn’t talk about, so don’t ask.” Boss stopped and pointed to the right. “The mess hall is back there.”

“I know.” He could take a hint. Actually, he just got two hints and wondered why everyone was so concerned about Zev’s feelings all of a sudden. “Hey, Sir?”

Narra paused. “Yes, Loneozner?”

“Ugh.” Why didn’t the commander just call him Oz? “I need to talk to you later.”

Boss clapped Narra on the shoulder and grinned. “It’s all on you now.”

Luke wondered if the ‘it’ was him, and he suspected ‘it’ was.

 **OooOoo**

Zev unwrapped the bandage, revealing a cut that was stained with dried blood but didn’t look infected. Luke winced in sympathy and settled cross-legged on the floor in front of Zev’s bed and took the pilot’s hand between his own two. Zev’s hand was warmer than his real one and it felt pleasant.

“You need to be really quiet,” he instructed, “because I can’t concentrate if anyone talks.”

Zev exchanged a quick look at Janson who sat next to him. “Does that mean you, or just other people?”

“Shh.” He closed his eyes, wishing he had some formal training in this. Maybe his dad would break his Sithly rules and show him. For now, he relaxed into meditation, then tried to follow the structure of Zev’s finger, moving slowly into it, careful not to injure the exterior that was already trying to grow back together before it was healed inside. He hoped he didn’t accidentally blow up the entire hand. But it made sense that if he could destroy something, he could also repair it by doing the same thing… backwards.

It was a very long slice, but thankfully more sideways than deep, not slicing into bone, and just skimming over a band he thought might be a tendon, so he worked his way along to begin at the farthest point, envisioning the depth of the tear mending, weaving loose fibers together, slowly, picking out the patterns and gaining confidence, but still being as cautious as possible. It didn’t seem difficult, but it was tiring and he paused a few times to recover himself and pull back from the task. He tugged at loose edges, trying to smooth the ragged pieces, remembering his father’s instructions to be gentle with their link, figuring that could apply to healing too.

There were more layers than he’d initially noticed. Who knew a finger could be so complex? If a single finger was so hard for him, how could he ever hope to help heal his father’s extensive injuries? He was growing exhausted inside his head and felt himself stumble mentally. He wanted to quit, but he was so close and he wasn’t a quitter. Never a quitter. The layers were colors… like a rainbow, a really ugly rainbow... and there was the outside skin, only a few more steps to get there….

He broke the connection. “Did I finish?” he whispered. He was cold and clammy and dizzy and a little nauseous and hoped he wasn’t going to throw up on his friends.

“I can’t tell,” Zev said. “It feels a little— Luke, are you okay?”

He knew he was tipping over but was powerless to stop it. _What are you doing?_ he thought he heard his father demand, but his father wasn’t there and and the room was spinning and getting dark and he was falling sideways.

 _Watch it!_ someone said, and caught him as he—


	8. When You Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke looks back and sees too much. Is confession good for the soul? Or is it unwise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 68

_Grey surrounded him. Not thick, but heavy, moving, twisting, seeming to have no beginning and no end, no matter which way he turned. He’d been here before. He looked down. He could see footsteps beneath his boots as if he’d stood here a long time, the grey sucking in his feet like sand. He took a few steps and they left a path. Maybe he could find his way back if he followed them… but as soon as he thought it, they faded into nothing. Where was he?_

Where am I? _he called into the Void._

Where are you? _someone called, or was it an echo to answer his own words?_

Father? _he wondered, because he didn’t want to consider who else might be hiding in the grey._

Young one. You are lost. You must find your way back.

No kidding.

 _He looked around._ I don’t know which way to go.

Follow my voice.

_He took a few tentative steps, feeling like he was balancing on a narrow wire. Someone else was there, just off to the side and he stopped to look._

_Kenobi. Battered Luke in his arms. Owen and Beru, one raging, one sobbing. Luke, bewildered, shutting away the bright outside. Welcoming the grey that descended and wrapped him in a gentle cloud._

_Another step, then two. Luke in Mos Eisley, his history in his hands— now he knew, his father a Jedi. Beru and Owen, sprawled dead on the sand. Fixer, white with fear. Ewani Murino, the Alderaani who drew his blood, beaten with the butt of a stormtrooper’s rifle. The Falleen, Jas Xenar, not back with his family, but imprisoned in a work camp, dying a little every day._

_More steps. Only blurs speeding past. His father looming in the background in every scene, in every moment. Devastator Dantooine Dagobah._

_Death Star. Two million._

_Yavin, a lowly lifeform blown into pieces. Two million plus one. People, no need to kill when they were so easy to manipulate and mislead. So many lies, one upon another. They lay on the ground, piles of garbage. He should have picked them up and thrown them in the trash like the troopers had done with him. Where he would have stayed if Kenobi hadn’t intervened. If his life was to be littered with the broken remnants of others, why save him?_

_Yoda. Killing Yoda in the cave because… Because. Hating Jedi, using what was taught. Destroying another lifeform without misgivings. Two million lives… the snake was his plus-two._

_Tadeo and… his brother. He couldn’t remember the brother’s name, just someone he’d killed. Two million plus three. And… Beru and Owen. His fault. Two million plus five. What about Cave Yoda? Did he make two million plus six?_

_And he’d asked for corpses to practice destruction, refine his skills, make them more lethal._

_There were more he hadn’t killed, not physically anyway. Too many to remember. But there was Dayan, who abandoned his dream and went home because his father was dead in the Death Star. Boss, disappointed, hurt by Luke’s betrayal of his trust. A stranger paralyzed for life— not a good man, but not deserving of Luke’s judgement._

_Wedge._ Take him out, _his father said._ Of course, _he had answered as he always did._ Whatever you say, Dad. _Could have killed, could have murdered Wedge so easily, just a little more pressure against his throat. A nuisance brushed aside. Twice. Would have made two million plus seven...or would that have been plus eight, if he killed him twice?_

When you look back at your life, what will you see?

_You’re a stone tossed in an ocean, someone said. The ripples last forever. A stone in the sand— that matters not until it surfaces years later to bruise someone’s foot or to be a weapon against a Raider. You should have stayed in the desert._

_It matters not._

Young one.

_He turned his head toward the voice. Through the fog, there was a path now, clear footsteps to follow. Were they his own? Had he turned around to go back, to relive it all? Hoping for another chance?_

_Too late._

I will lead you home. Come to me.

 _Home. He had no idea what that meant or where it was. But anything would be better than the grey._ Who are you?

 _The miasma coalesced and he could see the cloaked giant._ Luke… you have gone too far. You are lost. Son, take my hand.

_The black glove was close. If he reached out, his fingertips would touch it. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing was there but the wreckage that trailed behind his life like shadows, lying along the sides of the path where he had ignored them or simply not noticed what he’d done. Not cared._

_He took a single step and reached out. His father waited, silent, patient._

_Fingers brushed fingers. Luke hesitated. There was nothing behind him, only what lay in front of him._

_And all he had was what he brought with him._

_A clear picture, then, of the abyss in front of his toes. One step and he would either fall in or rise above it. A gulf between him and his father. A buckling universe, fracturing, mending, or something in between._

_He wrapped his hand around his father’s, feeling the cold strength of metal under the glove and he—_

Yanked _._

_Vader stumbled, taken off guard, falling forward to his knees, struggling upright again. The Dark Lord was gone. In his place was a man, just a man with eyes filled with confusion and pain and loneliness, and then—_

_The man pulled. Luke staggered forward a few steps, resisting, refusing to surrender or release, and then—_

_Suddenly the man shoved him backward, thrust him away, grief and angry tears in his eyes, and then—_

“He’s awake! Luke!”

There were people, lights, breathing, he was— He shook his head. “I have to go back!” he cried. “I was close— so close! He was— I have to….”

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

Arms held him, his body resting, propped against someone. On the floor. In the barracks. Yavin. Luke blinked and tried to see but the light was too bright after the comforting blanket of nothing.

“You scared the shit out of us,” someone said…. Janson, his name was Janson. Of course.

One hand that wrapped across his chest had a puckered pink scar on its finger. “It worked,” he murmured, touching it lightly, remembering that… what? Whatever he had done, it had led him to another place. A place he’d been before.

“We thought you were dying.” Wedge was folding a blood pressure monitor and stowing it in a case. “But _he_ came and said you were in a trance. Some Force thing.”

Luke turned his head cautiously, feeling a nauseating level of vertigo. Kodra.

“There was a disturbance.” His instructor frowned. “You go places where you should not. You are not ready.”

“I didn’t mean to.” He didn’t know where he had been, but he remembered every heartbeat— if his heart had been actually beating then. His life. His father—

_His father._

They’d been so close, he’d almost been able to grab him— _Anakin?_ — and pull him free. But his father had pushed him away, always pushed him away, over and over, until he wanted to give up, and he _wouldn’t_ give up, but... this time had been different. This time there had been something else coming, something that shadowed him, stalked him, baited and waited for him to walk forward.

And his father had shoved him to safety.

He moved his head. The spinning room slowed. His hair tangled in something, and a hand pulled the strands free. Beneath his ear, he could hear an erratic heart that gradually quieted to normal rhythm. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispered to Zev, and felt a sharp, gentle inhalation at the words. _Father_ , he almost said, but it was only Zev.

“You scared everyone. You were out of it for damn near a half-hour.”

“Oh.” Cautiously, he straightened. “Thank you for… coming to get me.” That wasn’t right, they hadn’t come to save him, they had waited for him to come back, calling, not leaving him alone. But he didn’t know how to say that. “I have to rest.” He tried to stand, but his legs had no strength.

Kodra scooped him up, cradling him like a baby. “He’s so little,” Hobbie said. “I didn’t realize he was so small.”

“Tiny, like a puppy,” Janson murmured. “Yappy like one too.”

“Well, he may be little, but he weighs a ton,” Zev said. “All muscle. I tried to get him up earlier but he was like a sack of rocks.”

He couldn’t help himself. His arm dangled, his head lolled back, he was nearly asleep. Afraid of what would happen if he slept. His mind was full of pictures that he had to study and thoughts that he had to think, but he was so sleepy. “Thank you,” he whispered, and let himself go.

 **OooOoo**

When he woke, he heard voices so he must’ve only slept for a short while. He wasn’t ready to think yet, but he had to use the ‘fresher. Someone had removed his jumpsuit and left his tank and briefs and loaned him pajama bottoms. “I don’t have my own pajamas,” he muttered, and suddenly that became very important. His father was supposed to send some.

He stood holding onto the wall, registering that his door was propped open. Carefully he walked around it, concentrating on each step before he dared to take it.

The voices stopped. “Are you all right?”

Narra. They’d told him. Their babysitter. What a job. “Okay. Just….” He gestured toward the ‘fresher.

“You need help getting there?”

“No. Just… slow.” He paused. “Thanks.”

Afterward he splashed water on his face and dried it with a towel. He looked in the mirror. His eyes were… just his eyes. He’d thought he might have looked like he felt, haunted or scared, but he looked… even. An even stare. Unreadable. Lights on, nobody home. He checked the mirror again to be certain there was no one or nothing behind him. No grey. No presence. No something.

His usual spot on the sofa was vacant, so he curled up there and shivered. Janson went and got the giant scarf and draped it over his shoulders. He pulled it closer, around his head, and hid in its folds.

“Why do you have so many bruises?” Janson asked, and he realized that’s who had changed his clothes and cuffed the pj’s so he didn’t trip on the extra length. “And a burn.”

“Classes,” he said vaguely, then specified: “Sticks and throwing. You know.”

They all seemed subdued, and he thought that maybe he had really frightened them. Or they were thinking of something else entirely. _Not everything is about you, Luke._

“So… what’s a trance like?” Porkins. Maybe they _were_ thinking about him after all.

“It’s… grey and cloudy. Empty. Except for the past. Memories. People.” He huddled himself together. “Almost the future. But I let go— No, he pushed me back. I was so close.”

“Close to what?” Commander Narra asked, and Luke sensed the uncomfortable drift of his curiosity.

“Success. Failure. I don’t know.” He shrugged. What he wanted now was normalcy; he could think later. It was going to take a long time. “What’re you guys doing? What happened with the sabaac game?”

“I won,” Porkins said.

“By default,” Wedge added. “Sir gave me bad news and I couldn’t concentrate. Otherwise I would’ve creamed him.”

“You would not!”

“Bad news?” Luke repeated.

Wedge grimaced. “They want to check out my cough. From both ends.”

What did that mean? “What? How do you mean?”

Hobbie made a disgusted sound. “You know… down his throat and up his….”

Luke stared blankly, then understood. “Oh. Why? It was just a cough.”

“Doc didn’t like the way it came from nowhere and vanished and came back again. No throat symptoms. Maybe something in my gut.” Antilles shrugged.”I feel fine. I don’t want to do this.” There was a slight whine in his voice.

“Sorry,” Narra said. “Can’t argue with the medic.”

“I could die!” Wedge protested, and Luke understood that he was really scared.

“What kind of talk is that? You won’t die.”

“Yeah,” Hobbie said, “You’ll just be miserable for the entire day before and we’ll all hate you. Maybe you should move out for that day. Find a private ‘fresher.”

Multiple groans of disgust were issued around the room. Luke rested his forehead on his knees. Well, that was… he couldn’t think of an appropriate curse. This was his fault. He should tell Wedge—

_Hi, I used the Force to half-strangle you and make you choke. You’re fine, it’s all good._

Sithspawn. Truly, he was a sithspawn devil. He had to confess to Narra. _Think this through first._ Narra would have to tell Command. The generals would see it as another alarming reason why they should get rid of him one way or the other. And if they found out about Tadeo’s brother….

He felt sick. “I’m going to barf,” he announced, and rushed back to the ‘fresher.

“Never let him try healing again,” he heard one of them say as he pushed the door open.

 **OooOoo**

He didn’t have the energy to get up two hours early for classes and figured Kodra would excuse him this once. He could use the extra time to lie here and think about what he’d seen and felt.

Most of it was obvious. Maybe all of it. Maybe there were no hidden meanings. He’d teased the edge of what they called the Darkness for his entire life. _Forever will it dominate your destiny._ He didn’t know what destiny was and didn’t know if it existed. His past life was one of missteps that he couldn’t retake. Maybe he could fix some of the mistakes. Ask his father to set Jas free, send a message to Fixer, check on the Alderaani bloodsucker. Make a few other repairs if he could, like to his relationship with Jovay. But the immediate problem with Wedge loomed above everything else.

He would have to confess, no matter what the punishment. Only about Wedge, never about Tadeo’s brother— why couldn’t he remember his name? He would never confess to that because they would kill him and be right to do it. And even if that happened, he still wouldn’t be able to die peacefully, knowing that his death would bring the wrath of Vader crashing down on the Alliance.

It was surprising that his father hadn’t contacted him. Maybe it was for the same reason that Luke hadn’t reached out: what could he say? His father struggled against him, but ultimately saved him… and he couldn’t have been Vader at that moment. Surely that was Anakin Skywalker he’d seen, torn apart by something invisible, struggling to free himself… or to drag his son into the fray.

His confused thoughts lasted until Lights On, and he went to breakfast, subdued while the others talked. Janson’s x-wing occupied a few hours. After he found and repaired the ‘wobble’ Wes had graphically described, he tuned up everything he could, making it as safe and fast as it could possibly be. Then he turned his attention to the others’ ships. He liked tinkering with them almost as much as flying and was grateful that Narra left him alone to work all morning. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that the squad leader approached him.

“Oz. You wanted to talk to me about something?” In response to Luke’s blank look, he added, “After dinner last night, you asked.”

“Oh.” He could hardly remember… it had been about clothes, which seemed absurdly unimportant now. “Can we walk outside?”

Narra nodded and led the way. Luke wiped the grease from his hands on a rag, then twisted it between them. When they were far enough to not be overheard, he stopped and studied his feet for a moment before looking up.

“I’ve been preparing what to say. About what happened last night, what I saw in my vision, the reasons why—” Luke glanced back at the hangar, all the activity, people working, arguing, laughing, people whose problems and stories he didn’t know because he had assumed they were somehow lesser beings than he was and not worthy of his notice. “But I guess reasons are just excuses.”

The commander waited patiently. Luke almost hoped he’d interrupt and say ‘not now, later, don’t worry, everything is fine’ but of course he didn’t.

He took a breath. “Wedge isn’t sick. I did it. I choked him to make him shut up. I made him cough.”

Narra’s eyebrows drew together. “When did you do that? He was across from you at lunch—“

“Yeah, then too. But the night before, when you were in your office, he said something about my father. And I didn’t like it. So I choked him.”

“I don’t understand. You had another fight besides the one in the hangar?”

“No!” Confessing was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He rubbed the dirty rag around his bracelet, polishing it. “I choked him— I used the Force to choke him. You must’ve heard the stories about Vader doing that.”

The older man stared at him for long seconds, then looked toward the thick treeline, saying nothing.

“So Wedge doesn’t need those procedures,” he added nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

The commander turned away, his back to Luke. He ran his fingers through his hair, then shook his head in apparent denial.

“It’s like you said,” Luke offered. “That one day I would go too far and… be stuck somewhere I couldn’t get out of. And… here I am. Already.”

Narra twisted toward him. “You used the Force to attack a fellow pilot,” he said in a low voice.

Luke nodded, holding the hard stare though he was shaking.

“How else have you used the Force here? Have you attacked others?”

“Well… that thing Janson thought threw up on me— I actually _blew_ it up.” He gnawed on his lower lip. _Forget about the brother, forget him._ “Otherwise just to… like grab something I couldn’t reach… or, you know… suggestions.” Evidently that statement required more explanation. “Like… don’t look there, nothing to see here, stuff like that. And now that I’m learning to fight without the Force, I don’t have to use it.” He faltered. “Except that one time… two times... with Wedge. I think that’s all.”

“Are you certain there‘s nothing else?” Narra tilted his head, eyes narrowed, pinning him down. “Something made Commander Dreis give up a job he loved. He wouldn’t say what it was, but… if it was you and there’s more, tell me now. I don’t want to find out later that you lied to me.”

Boss loved his job… another check mark on the list of injuries he’d caused that man. Now Narra… and another betrayal. He looked down and said nothing.

It felt like the eyes were ripping him apart, raking him up and down, staring into the emptiness that was his soul. “Get back to work,” Narra said shortly. “I need to think about this.”

“I won’t do it again,” he called desperately as the commander walked away. “I _promise.”_

He hadn't really hoped for a response. Good thing, because he didn’t get one. When Narra vanished into the darkness of the hangar, he knew there went his only chance to confess about… the damn brother whose name he didn’t remember and whose face he couldn’t see in his mind.

 _Shit._ “Sir!” he called, running after Narra. “Sir!”

He caught up with him alongside a snub. The commander slid him an unreadable look that was more intimidating than anger would have been.

“There’s something else....”


	9. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke’s conversation with Vader is confusing but gives him some insights. And he wonders what’s going on in the barracks— is Zev flirting with him?? And is Narra ignoring his confession?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 69

It was good they could go somewhere pleasant. “I really like Naboo. Maybe we could live here one day.”

Darth Vader stared into the distance and said nothing.

“I need something from you,” Luke said.

“Other than a bathrobe and boots? I told you to com Captain Jovay.”

“And pajamas,” he reminded. “And no! I want to know why you lied to me about Jas.”

“Who?” The helmet turned toward him. Reflected in the lenses, he could see a red waterfall behind his red face.

“Jaslin Xenar— the Falleen who tried to save me from you. Remember now? You told me you sent him back to his father, but he’s in a prison work camp!”

“I did not lie to you, young one, I ordered him home. If he is in a penal camp, it is because he committed additional crimes. Which would not be surprising.”

“Okay.” He felt mollified knowing that his dad hadn’t lied. “But could you check on him? Maybe he could be freed. And about contacting Jovay…. Well, I can’t com him because I can’t ask for a comlink right now because I told Commander Narra that I… um… choked my friend Wedge a couple times and that… you know, I killed the spy. Using the Force.”

He concentrated on the scenery. There were five breaths of silence. Not that he could actually hear his father’s respirator when they were meditating, but he’d heard it often enough in real life that he could count in his head.

“What were you thinking?” growled his father— predictably. “Where did you get such a ludicrous, abysmal, completely empty-brained idea? Have you gone mad? Do you want to get yourself executed? Or imprisoned?”

“Would it kill you to talk nice to me?” Luke frowned. “After I fell into that grey place yesterday, I felt the need to be truthful.”

“You definitely picked an unfortunate time to change the habit of a lifetime.”

“When would a fortunate time have been?” Luke leaned back on his elbows, wishing he could feel the dampness of dew on the grass.

Vader dismissed his question as rhetorical. “Do I need to come to your rescue? I can attack the base— and will quite gladly, in fact. Or are you capable of managing this disaster on your own?”

“Oh, c’mon!” Honestly, his father was being deliberately contentious. “I’ll talk my way out of it, I always do.”

“And if your convoluted reasoning doesn’t work on them?”

“Stop it!” He tugged on their link—hard— and hoped it hurt. “No worries. If it doesn’t work, I’ll flutter my eyelashes and smile innocently. That’s fool-proof.”

Vader groaned and muttered something in Huttese that Luke only caught part of, enough to know it wasn’t a compliment.

He sat up again. “And speaking of my smile, when we get together at your castle I want your mask off.”

_“What?”_

Satisfied with the reaction, he nodded. “You heard me. I want you to see me with your own eyes. And I want to see you so I can figure out where to start healing. Or at least upgrade your suit so it doesn’t hurt you all the time. I can feel that it does, so don’t argue the point. I want to see you and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“You do _not_ want to see me.” There was something other than anger in the response but Luke was reluctant to define it because he felt the undercurrents of pain.

“I really do.” He hesitated, but decided he was already committed. “I know you have scars and missing limbs and… well, whatever else happened. But I need to see you. And I really want you to see me. I _need_ that.”

“I already can see you,” Vader replied stiffly.

“Through your lenses! That’s not—“

“I have holo pictures. In my meditation pod. And elsewhere.” If an admission had ever been more reluctant, he couldn’t think of a time when he’d heard one.

He stared at his father, hoping for some sort of visible clue on the helmet, but saw nothing different. “What? Holos? You have _pictures_ of me?”

“I just said that, did I not? But that is not important. I want to know what were you doing when I found you wandering in the Void. And do not say that you were wandering in the Void, I want to know what you were doing _before_ that disaster. Meditating?”

“Not exactly….” He sighed, setting aside for now the adorable image of his dad mooning over pictures of him. He hoped they were good pictures. Maybe even a Happy Smile. “I was trying to heal someone. Zev had a cut on his finger.”

“A. Cut. On. His. Finger.”

He could hear the disbelief in each word and wrinkled his nose. “I just said that, did I not? Yes. And it worked, I did it. It was all gone by this morning.”

“For that you risked your safety? Someone’s _finger?”_ Vader huffed. “You could have been killed. Or worse.”

Okay, better not to know what the ‘or worse’ was. Maybe it was Palpatine and maybe it wasn’t. “Well, first of all, I wanted to see if I could heal. And I learned that I can, so I can help you after more practice so I don’t do… whatever I did last night. And you….” He hesitated. “In the Void, I almost thought you would come to me. I think you kinda wanted to, didn’t you? Before you pushed me away from whatever the creepy thing was.”

Silence.

“Even if you didn’t want to come, you saved me anyway, so thank you for that. We need to talk more about what happened, because I thought… Well, next time maybe you could move a little closer to me.”

“There will be no next time,” his father warned. “You were in danger because of your ignorance. You must not venture into the Void.”

“Why not?” he asked automatically, then decided it was time for a little instruction. “What is it? What’s there?”

“You saw what is there. The past… but necessarily your true past. Sometimes the future.” Vader slumped slightly and placed his palm on the grass. When he lifted it, no imprint was left behind. “You can become trapped. The deeper you go— It will engulf you, feed on your memories, devour and expand them until you can no longer sense what is real and what is constructed by the Void. Luke— you were so close to be taken. You couldn’t get out by yourself. You didn’t know how. If you had gone deeper, if I hadn’t sensed you in time, you would have—“

His father’s voice broke off and his breathing faltered. The black helmet shimmered, and there was a momentary image of a head beneath it. “I’m sorry,” Luke said gently. “I didn’t mean to go there. I’ll be careful. And you— what would have happened if I’d pulled you harder? Would you have fallen into it?”

Muffled, the sound could almost have been a chuckle if it hadn’t been bitter. So very bitter. “I am already there, Luke. It is my home now.”

It was the answer he’d half-expected but was at a loss about how to respond. He had to try. “Then… would I have been able to pull you out?”

Ten non-respirator breaths. “I do not believe you are strong enough,” Vader said heavily, and Luke felt a wave of unspoken understanding pass through both of them.

 _You want out but you can’t do it alone. I keep asking and asking, but you can’t do it. Is it Palpatine who holds you in the Void? Or is it yourself? Your true memories or ones the Void created?_ “Would we be strong enough together?”

His father sighed. “Luke, the danger to you is too great. For me, it is where I have been for as long as you have been alive. I am accustomed to it. You are not… and you are not Dark enough yet to survive there.”

 _Yet?_ “So… is the Void the Darkness? And what if I _was_ Dark enough?”

“You’re not.” The Dark Lord stood. “I must leave. Matters demand my attention.”

“Wait! Before we go, I have a question for you.”

“Of course you do. What do you want? Perhaps evening wear? Jewelry?”

“No, I—“ He blinked. “Did you say ‘jewelry’? Well… no, I guess not. The bracelet is enough. Anyway, I have a question that I don’t want you to answer now. Just think about it, and you can answer when we’re together.”

“Go ahead.” There was a distinct tone of resignation in his father’s voice.

He wanted to ask carefully. “If I did turn to your Dark Side… what would I be like?”

This shocked silence would not be broken by Vader, so Luke continued: “Would I live in the Void? Would I be angry? Ruthless? Aggressive? Sad? Would I have friends? Would I still love you? Or would I only be able to hate? I want you to think about it and tell me what I would be.”

Still, there was no acknowledgement of his question. “Because… if I did, if I turned, maybe we’d be strong enough together to get ourselves out of the Void.”

“I must leave,” Vader said abruptly, but didn’t sever their link.

“Okay,” he answered, subdued. “But I’m ready to come to see you whenever you want…. So, uh, bye for now.”

He opened his eyes and felt their connection fade into nothing. Naboo was gone. It was a risk, putting those ideas into his father’s mind, but maybe Vader would come to the conclusion that he had long ago.

He simply refused to believe that Vader’s Light was gone. It just needed to be reignited.

And the next time in the Void, maybe Vader would come to _him._

But if not….

 **OooOoo**

“Where’s the commander?” Hobbie asked idly. “He’s not here and we’re wasting perfectly good mischief time.”

“Make all the mischief you want,” Janson replied, “but I’m leaving. I have a date.”

Zev poured himself a beer and chuckled. “Good luck with that. See you tomorrow.”

“He wishes,” Hobbie muttered, glaring at his departing friend. 

Luke took the earbuds out as Zev settled next to him. “Can I have a sip?”

“And risk the outrage of Narra? As if. What’re you studying now? Still about the Sith?”

“No, I didn’t like them.” He draped one leg over the sofa arm and tried a sideways Innocent Gaze on Zev, figuring he needed to perfect it for Narra’s benefit. “Actually,” he shook his head so a few strands of hair fell across his eyes, “I’m not sure what it’s about. I was only pretending to listen.” _Instead I was thinking that my father was right— I was absolutely stupid to confess to the commander._

_Still… it seems like a small thing to worry about when I have the Void to consider. Like how to get there and back._

Zev grinned and raised his hand, brushing the hair back. “How are you going to learn if you don’t pay attention?”

 _So what to say to Narra? Wait— my action was_ honorable! _That was a good word to use in defense. Honorable. Noble. It was positively noble of me to confess so bravely._ He tilted his head and gave Zev a sunny smile.

Hobbie groaned. “You want we should leave you two alone? Pork, Wedge— let’s have a rousing game of darts and ignore the lovebirds.”

 _The what??_ Luke felt his cheeks heat a little as he watched the three pull out their darts. Zev ruffled his hair playfully, and he hesitated, thinking about the warnings he’d received. _Don’t hurt Zev_ , and that wasn’t his intention, but—

“Knock it off, Klivian,” Zev ordered mildly.

The door opened and Commander Narra entered, his gaze quickly scanning the room to assure that everything was as it should be. Luke froze, not abandoning his casual pose, but Zev withdrew his hand and straightened.

“Wes had a date,” Hobbie announced, thankfully distracting their squad leader’s attention. He aimed his dart at Palpatine’s head. It pierced the shadowy hood where his nose should be, and Luke was amazed there was anywhere for a dart to stick in that mass of holes.

“Apparently it didn’t go very well because I saw him at Rohr’s Bar, drinking alone.”

“Is that what _you_ were doing, Sir?” Luke asked sweetly.

Narra spared him an emotionless glance before entering his office. Luke slid his leg down.

“You should be….” Zev stopped.

“I should be,” Luke agreed with whatever Zev intended to say. “But I’m already in trouble with him. I did some bad things.”

“Wish I’d been there to see them,” Senesca said in a low voice.

Now he truly blushed. “No, I mean… _really_ bad bad things. Not good. I mean, not interesting. I’m just….” Well, _what?_ He wasn’t evil, he was just…. Oh, _misguided_. Yeah, he definitely would use that word with the commander. Unless that sounded like blaming his father, and he didn’t want to do that.

“You want to go for a walk?” Zev murmured against his ear.

 _Oh. No. Hell no._ “Thanks, but I really need to study, uh—“ He glanced at the datatape’s title. _Legal Ramifications of Tactical Responses to Insurgency Within the Empire._ “Uh… it’s about legal stuff.”

“Oh, legal stuff,” Wedge called. “That’s definitely one of _my_ favorite subjects to read about.”

“What are you studying for?” Zev leaned back and downed the rest of his beer. “You planning on becoming a solicitor someday?”

“Don’t tell him to solicit, he might get the wrong idea.”

Zev frowned at Hobbie. “Klivian. Stop.”

Things were sure testy between the guys lately. It wasn’t _his_ fault, even though Narra suggested that possibility. “My father wants me to study. I didn’t get much formal education on Tatooine.” _Just street smarts. And not-so-smarts._

“I’ve had enough. I never win.” Porkins threw his last dart, which bounced harmlessly off Palpatine. He dragged a chair across the room and sat in front of Luke. “Explain to me—“ He shot a glance at the commander’s office. The door was closed but he lowered his voice anyway. “Your you-know-who father was a you-know-what and now he’s not a you-know-what any longer? How does that work? Isn’t he still a you-know-what? How can he just quit? He’s alive, right?”

“Of course he’s alive!”

“Who do you think sends all those clothes?” Hobbie joined the conversation. “Too bad he doesn’t spend as much time with you as he spends on clothes.”

“He’s busy!”

“Obviously Luke doesn’t want to talk about this,” Zev intervened. “Lay off him.”

“Get over yourself, Senesca! Your boyfriend can speak for himself. You’re not his Guardian Angel.”

“Sheesh. You guys.” Luke stood. “I have to talk to the commander.”

“Not about me!” Porkins protested. “I’ll shut up!”

“Of course not about you. About the drug thing.” It was the only way he could think of to quickly extricate himself. But now he was committed to talking to Narra. He tapped on the door.

“Sir?”

“Enter.” Narra didn’t look up. “What is it, Oz?”

“I was… erm… wondering if there’d been any progress in finding out who tried to frame me with the drugs.”

“That’s not in my purview.” The commander glanced at him briefly. “Tomorrow come here instead of lunch break. You’re dismissed. Close the door.”

Somehow he refrained from rolling his eyes. _Dismissed?_ He wasn’t one of their soldiers. Still, he gave a snappy salute. “Yessir!”

But because the day decided it wanted to admonish him further, Kodra was waiting, arms folded, in the center of their room. The others were evaluating him covertly, and Luke could feel that they were impressed by the imposing figure the Zabrak made.

Or maybe it was the purple hair.

“Hi— uh, hello, Master.” He inclined his head slightly.

Kodra unfurled one hand and pointed a long finger at him. “Do not miss another lesson. Tomorrow, 0500, no one else, practice sabers.”

Did he mean practice _lightsabers?_

His instructor nodded slightly, then whirled and stalked out.

“Wow,” Porkins murmured. “He’s really—“

Whatever description he was about to give was cut off by the door slamming open again. “What the hell— he almost ran me down!”

Janson— oh, he’d obviously had more than their allowed one drink. All the pilots turned toward him as he stumbled inside, with Luke and Zev getting there first. “Let’s put you in your bunk before Narra sees you,” Zev murmured.

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are.” Luke released his grasp on Wes’s arm because Zev had gone all possessive and was marching him away.

 _Really,_ Luke thought, _people are exhausting._ His mind made the logical jump.

“Maybe Red Squad should have a pet. A mascot, you know?”

“We already have one.” Hobbie looked at him. “And it’s you.”


	10. Scolded and Sistered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has a busy day being chastised for using the Force against Wedge (but really, he’s only scolded because no one understands him), then running into the Princess who may or may not be his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN 70

He snuck into the mess for a mid-morning snack, because who knew how much of his lunch break the commander would take up. And after the session with practice lightsabers, he needed comfort food because those practice saber burns _smarted_. Protein had been fine for breakfast, but now he needed sugar.

“This is what you eat?” Janson elbowed him as they waited in the line. “Pie and freeze ice?”

“I’m _hungry.”_ Krit, did he just whine? “Breakfast was ages ago. I worked out for two hours and then climbed all over an X, what’s your excuse?”

“Hey, I’m just having caf. That stuff you have will make you hyper… not that anyone can tell the difference. But you’re going to spoil your lunch.”

Ugh, that made Janson sound so old. “I don’t get lunch today. I’m being scolded instead.”

Wes sipped his caf and followed, but made no move to sit as Luke found an empty table. “What did you do now?”

“Never mind. It was bad. I deserve whatever yelling I get.” He shoved a slice of freeze ice in his mouth and shuddered.

“Okay, my mopey little friend, see you later.”

He managed a wave and looked after Janson. Okay, he _was_ feeling a little down this morning after the weird conversation with his dad and having only a scolding to look forward to. He _hoped_ it was only a scolding, but he had a feeling that was a false hope.

The rest of the morning dragged by, and then he literally dragged his feet along the ground toward the barracks. It was miserably hot and humid today; even the icy snack hadn’t cooled him down. Why did they stay on this stupid moon? They could go somewhere nice. Command totally knew that the Empire wouldn’t attack as long as Luke was with them. Well, at least _Vader_ wouldn't attack, and no one else had found them so far. But it was so _boring_ , doing nothing but repairs and rebuilds, searching for supplies, occasionally hijacking Imp supply ships. Not that _he_ ever had the chance to do that… no, he was too good at mechanics to waste as a pilot.

No matter how much he stalled, it was a short walk to Red Barracks. He paused at the door, looking around, hoping for something to distract him, someone who needed his help, any old thing that would take him away. But noooo….

At least it was cool inside. He edged his way toward the office and saw that Narra wasn’t behind his desk. Reprieve!

“Come in, Oz.”

Well, double-krit, that was Boss’s voice. He peered around the doorway. Boss was sitting in one of the chairs. “Oh… hi.”

Dreis gestured to the chair next to him, which meant that Luke had to practically climb over him and then he was trapped in the corner. “What’re you doing here?”

“Lending moral support. To the commander, not you.” Boss didn’t look his way. “Another package came for you. It’s on your bunk.”

“It did?” Excited, he—

“Sit,” Dreis commanded. “You can get it later.”

“Okay. Well... thanks.”

“It’s clothes— of course.”

Of course. And _of course_ they opened it. Luke frowned.

“And there’s also a datacard with an encryption algorithm that our slicers couldn’t crack.”

 _“What?_ You tried to open a _private_ communication?” Indignant, Luke stood. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously nobody’s business but mine!”

“Sit. Down.” Boss had the nerve to grab his arm. “The generals saw it and you’re damn lucky I convinced them to give it to you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out the datacard.

“Oh.” Luke sat and took the unmarked card, turning it over a couple times before pocketing it. “Why did you?”

“Because he’s willing to give you a chance,” Commander Narra said as he entered, closing the door behind him, “just as I am. And because we assume it’s personal correspondence. But I expect you to turn over any content that is related to the Alliance or the war. Anything beyond personal. Understand?”

“Whatev—“ Luke snapped his mouth shut, vaguely remembering that he was going to try to never say that again. Maybe. “Okay. Sir.”

Narra seated himself behind the desk that was completely bare, not even a stylus for him to play with. “Let’s discuss your actions against Antilles.”

“Wait. Before you start yelling at me, I have a question.”

“I warned you,” Boss murmured. “He’s going to try to take control of the narrative.”

“It’s not a narrative! It’s just a question.” He saw them look at each other and decided he should speak quickly. “I need to know— what do you expect from me?”

“We expect—“

“No, wait!” Could they not let him finish?! “I mean, you know who I am and what I am. And you know who my father is and what he is. So, really, what do you expect from me that you didn’t already… expect?” Okay, that had sounded better in his head, but he figured they got the idea.

Boss made the _he’s-all-yours_ gesture to Narra.

“I expect answers, not excuses. You’ve been with the Alliance for a year. I think we deserve your honesty and respect.”

“Like I deserve to not have my private packages spied on and taken apart?” Luke folded his arms.

“Just answer the question.”

“Fine.” Luke waited. Neither of them spoke. “What‘s the question?”

“Wedge Antilles. Why did you do what you did?”

Really, hadn’t he already explained? Well… maybe not. “You were there! That night he said that I said that my father was dead and one of the guys asked _when_ I said that— which was at my _interrogation,_ if you remember— so I made him cough to shut him up. I didn’t _hurt_ him for kritpeth sake! It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Hmm. Then his coughing attack at lunch was simply food gone wrong?”

 _Food gone wrong._ He liked that expression and filed it away for future use. “No, he was annoying me. He was deliberately not looking at me and I wanted him to stop. And then that afternoon, he accused my dad of being a _slaver_ — and I didn’t choke him then. Maybe I should have!” He considered his next words carefully. “I was able to channel my new...um, physical prowess…” Wasn’t that what Narra had called it? “...into a more conventional manner and not use the Force.”

They didn’t respond immediately, so he took the opportunity to ask Boss: “Hey, do you have that darts poster of my dad? I want it back.”

Boss gave him a look that seemed aggravated, but pulled the folded sheet from his pocket and slapped it on the desktop. Luke immediately snatched it. “Thank you,” he said with dignity. “Anything else you need to know?”

Narra shook his head. “Do you understand that what you did was wrong?”

“Well… yeah. Anyway, my dad already reamed me out about this.” He shifted in the chair. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Your father disapproved?” Narra seemed astonished.

“Well, that I _told_ you about it, sure.” Seriously, did they think Vader would scold him for using the Force? Not a chance. In fact, his dad had said _take him out_. But maybe he wouldn’t mention that.

“From now on, you won’t use the Force.” Boss sounded stern, but Narra frowned at him.

Ah-hah, dissention in the ranks. “Uh, no.” Luke looked at Narra who was obviously more sympathetic. “Telling me not to use it would be like telling you not to inhale. It’s part of me— a _good_ part.” Usually.

Narra closed his eyes briefly, then focused them on Luke. “I want your promise that you won’t use it on your fellow Alliance members.”

That didn’t require lengthy consideration. “I can’t promise that,” he answered quietly. “I can promise not to use it for petty reasons like I did with Wedge, but there may be circumstances when I need to. To protect someone— or to protect _myself_ since obviously I already have a few enemies here— and for _good_ reasons, like knowing not to put our base on the other side of the moon.”

“That seems reasonable,” Commander Narra said.

Boss raised his hands. “I’m just here for moral support. He’s your problem now. But you’re forgetting the most important thing.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Narra was openly troubled. “Did you somehow use your skills on Staden Worlae?”

“Who?”

They looked at him. Oh. That must have been the brother’s name. “You mean… the, uh, spy?”

“I need to know.” Boss turned his head, but Luke avoided his gaze. “I thought that you manipulated him into commiting suicide by implying Tadeo may have been involved, and that disturbed me enough to— Well, now I wonder… was that _all_ it was?”

Luke leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. How could he make Boss understand? “He was a spy and a saboteur. Wedge’s X would have blown up the next time he flew. And the guy had the explosives to rig others. You would’ve interrogated and executed him anyway, but it would have taken too long. In the meantime, he could have found a way to get a message out— or if he had a handler, that person could have messaged— and I needed to check his belongings to be sure he hadn’t already sent word to the Imperials because if he was looking for me and Palpatine learned I was here, he would attack. So I decided to save the base and my squad and myself.” Looking at it that way, his action had been quite heroic.

Boss’s face had grown stiffer through his recitation and he looked like he couldn’t speak. “Are you saying,” Narra asked for him, “that you manipulated him as Boss suspected or… something more?”

 _Just say ‘manipulating’,_ he told himself. _But what will I see when I look back?_ He chewed on his thumbnail briefly before sitting up straight. “I made him hold the blaster to his head and pull the trigger.”

The commander exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair. “Murder by Jedi mind trick.”

“I’m not a Jedi!”

“Obviously,” Boss snapped. “Just a murderer.”

“Give me a break! It was an _execution_ , and you know it.”

Commander Narra drummed his fingers on the desktop, making Luke wish the stylus was back. “That was not your judgement to make. It required—“ He broke off, shaking his head. “We have procedures that we follow. Regulations regarding prisoners, rules of war….”

“Yeah, I’m sure the Empire follows rules of war.” Oops. “I mean, I know. I realized that after last night when I was in… well, it was sort of a meditation place. Too hard to explain.” He spread his hands and studied his nails. “But I saw a lot of things and realized some stuff… and that’s why I… decided to be _honorable_ and confess.”

He didn’t need to look at them to know they were looking at each other. “That question my father sent me a couple days ago— about what I would see when I looked back? Well, I did look back and I didn’t like it.” He was struck by the memory of the other time he’d seen the grey place and told his dad and Vader said that he didn’t know what it was… but maybe his father knew where he was headed and that’s why the question came.

“I can’t change what happened in the past. I can only be more aware in the future. But I’m not perfect and it’s hard controlling so much power.” _You have no idea how much I have to suppress. I’m not sure even_ I _know._ “That’s all I can promise— to be careful.”

Unexpectedly, Boss stood. “I’ve already heard more than I intended, given this is an unofficial meeting. Commander… you’ve made it clear that you’ll decide what’s best for your squad members. I promised you that I wouldn’t report this conversation to Command and I won’t. But if there are any similar occurrences and I learn about them, I will have to report them.” He didn’t look at Luke as he left.

So, it was up to Narra now. Luke relaxed slightly and gave him a tentative smile. “Are we good?”

 _“Good?”_ Narra repeated incredulously. “No, we’re not good. I know you think you can talk your way out of any punishment, but not this time.”

Well, krit. Luke blinked a few times until he managed a few tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “What else can I do but apologize? Should I apologize to Wedge?”

“No! Are you—“ The commander shook his head and opened the desk drawer. Out came flimsi and stylus, and Luke wondered if his punishment would be writing ‘I’m sorry’ a few thousand times.

But apparently the stylus was only for tapping on the flimsi. “No one else must know that you used the Force in that way. That knowledge would be dangerous. You need to curb your usage to times when you’re alone.”

“I have been! Except for the healing thing. And going to be trained by Yoda. And having a lightsaber. And a Jedi father. And maybe a couple other things. But that’s all. And I trust the guys not to say anything.” More or less.

“Also, I don’t want you to see your father as you requested. All this happened after the last time you saw him.”

“I— Don’t blame _him_ for all this! Yoda taught me, so if I’m misguided it’s _his_ fault!” His voice began rising but he managed to bring it down. “And I didn’t ‘request’ to see him. I _told_ you I’m going to see him. Krit— in the year since I’ve been here, I’ve only seen him once in person. He’s my dad and I want to be with him!”

“You said you can talk in your heads. That should be enough.”

“Well, it’s not! We can’t connect the same way. In person is different.” The last thing he wanted to do was to justify his faith in his father _again._ But one more try. “Look, I know you believe he’s a bad influence on me and maybe he is sometimes. But I can be a _good_ influence on him. He pays you to keep me, he hasn’t attacked this base— and as near as I know, he hasn’t attacked any other major Alliance base either.” Which was weird, now that he realized it. “I’m so close, I can _feel_ I’m close.”

“Close to what?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke said slowly. “I don’t know that he’d defect, but if he would throw more support to the Alliance….” Vader defecting seemed unlikely, but Vader overthrowing the Emperor and running the galaxy himself— that was a definite ‘yes’. Command had probably figured that out for themselves, so he didn’t need to mention it again.

Narra leaned back and shook his head. “I don’t know why I take such risks for you.”

 _Because I’m gorgeous and young and disarming and you feel sorry for me? Plus I’m being Honorable… noble, even._ “You’re not going to kick me out of the squad, are you?”

“No. I believe this is the best place for you. There are fine men in this squad, and you could use good examples.” He tapped the stylus a few times. “Go have some lunch and then report to Gold Squad. They need help with repairs.”

“Okay.” Hmm, that didn’t sound quite like a punishment; still, he resented the implication that his dad wasn’t a good example for him. “Thank you, Sir.” He paused. “Do you mind if I look at my package first?”

“Yes, I mind. Eat and then get to work.”

“Okay,” he repeated and gave Narra a blinding smile before he left.

Well, that hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. Good thing Narra was in charge now and not Boss.

 **OooOoo**

The hangar was relatively quiet. A few snubs were gone, but most ships were in place. Boring.

“Oz!”

He looked around, surprised. “Oh, hi, Leia!” She had a big voice for such a tiny girl.

She raised her eyebrows. “Most people call me ‘Princess’.”

“That’s too bad,” he said sincerely. “Most people call me ‘Oz’.”

She laughed a little and said nothing, just continued to smile at him.

“Hey, thanks for the birthday cake,” he continued awkwardly. “I had a party with the guys with it.”

“Good. Because you seemed a little shaken that day.” Her brown eyes were warm with concern.

“Yeah.” He felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Did you get any good presents for your birthday?”

“The usual. My parents sent some texts to study. And some clothes.”

He wondered if all her clothes were white the way most of his clothes were black. Some kind of symbolism there. “That’s what I got too. My dad always sends stuff for me to learn. I don't know if there’s any more room in my brain.”

“Your dad?” She frowned. “You said you were fostered.”

“Yeah… well, I was.” Who needed lies when the truth was so complicated? “But my dad’s alive.”

“Oh.” She looked at him pityingly, and he decided he could read her mind just by looking in her eyes. “I’m sorry… I mean….”

“It’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “So what’re—“

“OZ!” someone shouted, and Gold Leader appeared. Then he saw Leia. “Oh, sorry, Your Highness. I was just looking for Oz. Don’t let me disturb you,” he added and left quickly.

“I’m working for Gold this afternoon,” he explained.

“Then I should let you go.” But she didn’t move.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll get there eventually. So what’re you doing here? I never see you in the hangar.”

“Checking out some ships.” She gestured vaguely. “I’m part of a, uh, diplomatic mission and we’ll be traveling.”

“Oh. Well, be careful. You know what happened the last time you went on a ‘diplomatic mission’.” _Yeah, Dad Vader caught you and traded you for me._

_He’d better not try that again!_

“Thanks, we should be fine. It’s a short journey.” 

“Good. Uh… when you figure out what ship you’re taking, I can check it out, be sure it’s okay.”

“Thank you.” She raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Take care, Oz.”

 _What the—?_ “Uh… you too.” He watched as she left. Did she _like_ him? Oh, please, let her feel sisterly toward him, because if she felt some other way…. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Score one for Oz,” a passing Goldie muttered, and Luke had a bad feeling that the playful cheek-kiss would turn into a much bigger story before the day was over.


End file.
